The Gingerbread Girl
by sienna27
Summary: TV Title Challenge - Bonus Challenge #7: Doppelgangland - TOTAL AU - Flashback to the early 90s. An unmarried Hotch is assigned to protect a 22 yr old Emily after she gets a death threat. NOTE THE STATUS: This is NOT finished! So, read at your own risk. And no, I don't know when it'll be done. And no, contrary to popular belief it's not unfinished just to piss people off :-
1. Driving Miss Emily

**Author's Note**: ANOTHER AU story and don't throw anything at me, because yes I know, I have NO business posting anything new, but it's Kavi's fault! She put up a really good prompt on our AU ideas page and my brain went running off down the path. And rather than leaving a completely done chapter just sitting on my hard drive for another 48 hrs, I figured I'd put it up and give you guys something to read.

**This is what Kavi posted: **

_**Theme**__: Romance, Pre-FBI_

_**Idea**__: Hotch gets to 'babysit' Emily while working for her mother. Takes place in the summer and Emily is adamant that she head to her grandparents' ranch in Virginia. He goes with her and shenanigans ensure. Bonus points for a shirtless Hotch and Hotch playing Emily's boyfriend._

The prompt might make you think 'fun fluffiness,' but my brain's not really in a fluffy place so it's more general romance/drama. You'll see as you get more into Emily's thoughts. Hence the title as well. That's the name of a short story by Stephen King about a woman named Emily who has something bad happen to her and then sort of runs away from her life. You can google it if you want the narrative, but that's more the type of undercurrent this story will have. Though I promise it will NOT follow the plot of that story.

**THINGS YOU NEED TO KNOW:**

Seeing as the idea didn't address Hotch's marital status, and I figured Kavi wasn't looking for an Emily romance that made Hotch a cheating bastard :) I decided to switch a few things around:

Hotch is in the FBI, but he never got married to Haley. They're still dating like six years after they met, which shows you how well that's going. And he's fairly fresh out of the Academy so I don't have him with the Hotch nickname yet either. And Emily's mother isn't an ambassador here, she's the Secretary of State. I wanted the family to have a bit higher profile, and really, unless you're into politics, how many current American ambassadors can most people name off the tops of their heads? Exactly.

So with this slight tweaking of known factoids about them, I ended up shifting their personalities a little bit. Emily's relationship with her mother isn't so damaged because they had settled back in the States much earlier than on the show. As a result, I also have her going to Georgetown because I decided she wouldn't have been looking for that physical distance between them.

Remember, they are much younger (just in their twenties) so this is an AU flashback. Or as Arc and I call them "El Flashbackos" – remember that neither of us speaks Spanish natively :) But for el flashbacko purposes, we're in the early nineties. So technology wise, you'll notice they don't have all the little conveniences we take for granted. Like cellphones for instance. They existed but they were not at all commonly used. If anyone catches me throwing in an anachronism please don't hesitate to flag it for me. I almost had her watching a "DVD" and then I remembered they didn't exist at all :)

* * *

**Bonus Challenge #7**

Show: Buffy the Vampire Slayer

Title Challenge: Doppelgangland

* * *

_August 1992_

**Driving Miss Emily**

Aaron Hotchner sighed as they passed yet another green field full of fenced in cows.

_Christ, what a day._

He was out in the backwoods of Virginia. He hadn't been this far out in the country since, well, he couldn't remember if he'd _ever _been this far out in the country before. And if it was up to him, he wouldn't be this far out in the country today. But this wasn't really a negotiable trip. His eyes snapped up to the rear view mirror.

_She'd_ insisted.

SHE being, Miss Emily Victoria Prentiss.

Feeling a little stab of guilt, Aaron bit back another sigh . . . but it wasn't really fair to be irritated with her. He had no personal issues with Emily.

She hadn't done anything wrong.

Granted, he really wished that she wasn't dragging him out to the middle of _nowhere,_ and also . . . personality wise . . . she might have been a little more "extroverted" than what he was used to, but that was really about it for complaints. She was actually very nice, polite, well mannered and extremely intelligent.

All in all, if pressed, he'd have to say that she was a sweet girl.

His eyes once again snapped briefly to the mirror . . . and she was very pretty too. Not that that was in any way relevant to anything beyond the fact that he was a straight single guy in his twenties. So really, the appearance of any pretty girl was not going to escape his attention.

But . . . he shook his head slightly as his eyes slid back to the road . . . none of those things were really relevant here. His issue right now wasn't at all with the girl in the backseat.

It was with the assignment itself.

He was _supposed_ to be starting his HRT training this week. THAT was the reason for his irritation. Because two weeks ago . . . out of the blue . . . he'd gotten called into his chief's office and told that he was being bumped to the next HRT training cycle. And that was because they needed him to babysit the Secretary of State's daughter for the month.

Something had happened.

Specifically, two days earlier, the Secretary had left for a ten country, month long trip through Africa and the Middle East. And then twenty four hours _later_, her Washington staff contacted the Bureau.

They'd received a letter.

The threats themselves were fairly routine . . . anonymous block letter, 'death to America, blah, blah blah.' But the attached picture with the daughter's face scratched out and the words, "WHORES SHOULD BE STONED TO DEATH!" written underneath it, well, that was not routine. That had caused some alarm.

Because in the course of 'general' political rabble rousing, it was not status quo for any cabinet members' children to be specifically singled out for physical threats, or even general attention.

So even though she was no longer a dependent, for the duration of the Secretary's trip, the Bureau had reinstituted round the clock security for the twenty-two year old daughter. If there were no further threats made during that time, then when the Secretary returned, she could go back to her life as it was before.

A little bit of research had determined that the picture in question was an official photo which had been taken at a State Dinner six months earlier. It had turned up in about two dozen publications around the world. So there was no reason to think that any individual psycho . . . or fanatic group . . . knew anything about Emily personally. The action was probably just intended to rattle the Secretary.

Which it had.

Really though, if anyone was a target this month, it was going to be the Secretary herself. This week alone she'd already been burned in effigy in three countries. In contrast, her daughter was back in the States, reading books, watching movies and living completely below the radar.

But still . . . all threats were taken seriously and Aaron had unfortunately drawn the short straw on protection because he was the low man on the totem pole. Plus, he had no family of his own, so he was free to move into the spare room of the main house for the entirety of the Secretary's trip.

A full team of agents watching the daughter had been deemed unnecessary because the residence already was built like Fort Knox, and it had a regular security team assigned to the perimeter. Of course with the Secretary out of the country, the team was on skeleton. But that was still more than sufficient backup for Aaron when he wasn't really expecting anything to happen anyway.

The assignment was really only causing him recurrent irritation because the timing had screwed up his training course.

Aaron's mental bitching was interrupted by Emily suddenly smacking his seat.

"Ooh, ooh! Next exit there's a farm stand!"

With some difficulty, he managed to restrain his eye roll at that pronouncement. Not that the girl in the backseat would have seen it behind his sunglasses, but somehow he sensed that she would have known about it anyway.

So he was careful to even out his tone as he responded politely, "Miss Pren . . ."

"Emily," Emily corrected for the hundredth time.

They'd been LIVING together for the past two weeks, and Agent Hotchner still addressed her just as formally today as he had the day that they met in her mother's living room.

Okay, granted, she did still call him by his full title, but that was different. It wasn't her place to take liberties with him until he had at least loosened up enough to call her by her first name.

And efforts there were slow going.

"Miss Prentiss," he continued as though she hadn't interrupted, "we really can't make any unscheduled stops to buy _fruit_. This is a security detail, not," he shot her an ironic look in the rear view manner, "Driving Miss Daisy."

Her mouth quivered for a moment . . . that was the first joke that he'd cracked since they met.

Hmmm, maybe he _was_ finally loosening up.

Well . . . she loosened her seat belt a bit so that she could lean forward . . . maybe she could make a little more progress with him today.

This whole having a nanny thing would be much less of a bummer if he'd just lighten up a bit. She'd had bodyguards for years . . . most of her life really . . . and she'd yet to find one that she couldn't break through the toughened facade.

But Hotchner was proving to be a pretty tough nut to crack.

"Please Agent Hotchner," she pouted slightly at him in the mirror, "I know this trip was my idea, but I just _can't_ stay cooped up in the car any longer."

The man was a stickler for the rules. They had an A to B destination . . . her mother's house in the city to her grandparents' house in the country . . . and as far as he was concerned, that meant no stops in between.

He'd even stolen her water bottle out of her purse so they wouldn't have to make any bathroom breaks!

But seriously, she was going to commit suicide via seat belt strangulation if he didn't let her out of the damn car soon! Fortunately though, she was pretty sure that him twisting his jaw back and forth right now meant that he was at least considering her request. That was progress.

So she tried to make it worth his while.

"If you'll stop, I promise that when we get back in the car, I'll be quiet for fifteen minutes."

Though he was much too polite to come out and say it, Emily knew that her chatter was driving him nuts. He had a good poker face but occasionally his eyebrow would start to twitch or he'd bite his lip and she'd know that that if he had the self control of a mere mortal, he probably would have been on the verge of busting a vessel.

A hint of a smile touched Aaron's lips when he heard Emily' offer. But his amusement faded as he suddenly felt a stab of guilt. He hadn't realized that his occasional exasperation with her feminine chit chat had been obvious enough for her to pick up on it.

It wasn't anything personal, he just wasn't used to so much well, _talking_. Or maybe it was just that he wasn't used to so much talking at work. His girlfriend . . . though not as verbose as Emily . . . she was also much more outgoing than he was. So Emily wasn't actually doing anything _wrong_, she was just being, well . . . a girl.

And he wasn't used to basically living twenty-four hours a day with a woman.

If anything though, _he_ was the one in the wrong if he was making her feel uncomfortable. That was of course true just in principle, but also, though this assignment might have been a minor inconvenience to his career plans, it was a MAJOR intrusion into her personal life.

And he should really try to be more sympathetic about that.

And as he thought about it, he realized that it probably wouldn't do any harm to make a quick detour. He was quite sure that nobody had followed them from the city, so they were completely off the grid right now.

Not to mention, it was probably safer at the mom and pop farm stand than it would be at her grandparents' place. That was a known family retreat, but right now he was in a county he'd never even HEARD of before!

And he LIVED in Virginia!

So in an effort to make amends, for the first time in two weeks when Aaron looked back at Emily, he shot her a little smile.

"Okay, we can stop for a minute," then his smile faded as he added remorsefully, "and you don't have to be quiet when we get back in the car. I'm sorry if I did something to make you think otherwise."

Emily gave him a soft smile, "it's okay, I know I can sort of go off on the occasional ramble," then she asked cautiously, "but we can really stop?"

At his nod, her face lit up and she clapped.

"YAY!"

As she saw his mouth quiver at her enthusiastic response, Emily suddenly realized that she'd almost missed something.

"Hey!" she exclaimed, "you just SMILED!" she grinned at him, "I didn't know those muscles in your face worked."

That was unexpected. Especially given the question that had elicited it. But this was great! She _was_ making progress with him! And she'd actually been trying to get a smile out of the man since they'd met. He was SO serious! Even by standards of security officers . . . something she had a great deal of experience with . . . his demeanor was incredibly reserved.

But even though it was only a little one . . . her eyes crinkled as she settled back in her seat . . . that was definitely a grin that she'd just seen.

Aaron snorted in amusement as he changed lanes.

Just because he CHOSE to approach his work seriously didn't mean that he wasn't capable of displaying a full range of emotional responses. Though . . . his brow furrowed slightly . . . people always seemed surprised when he did.

And he couldn't quite figure out why that was. He rolled his eyes as he hit the turn signal.

Whatever, didn't matter.

As they made the turn onto the exit ramp, Emily sighed in contentment.

This was good, they'd get a little break, some fresh air . . . it was a beautiful day . . . and maybe she could get some fresh vegetables for dinner. The pantry was always stocked with non-perishables, but fresh food was of course better. And cooking in the big kitchen would be fun.

Since they'd reinstituted her around the clock security . . . something she hadn't had since she was eighteen, four years ago . . . she'd been going stir crazy at her parents' house. Though she had her own apartment in Adams Morgan, it had been decided that it would be safer if she moved back into the main house in Woodley Park for the duration of her parents' trip abroad.

Though she understood their concerns . . . she hadn't much cared for the carved up "whore" picture either . . . the move had still sucked. Her parent's house was beautiful . . . and it came with all of the finest security amenities . . . but it was like a museum. Way too stuffy.

She missed her own stuff.

And she was on break from Georgetown for three weeks between the end of her bonus summer session and the beginning of the fall classes, so she had NO distractions. And without any lectures to attend or papers to write, she'd been wandering around that mausoleum like a prisoner. She'd already read every book in the library years earlier, she hated magazines, and her parents didn't have cable so she was stuck watching the movies she'd carted over from her house. She'd finished those up four days ago.

Hence the fervent plea to go away for the weekend.

But the movies and her VCR were in the trunk in case she got bored at the ranch house too. Actually when she first moved back to her parents, she'd forgotten that they didn't have a VCR so she and Agent Hotchner had to make a special trip back to her apartment just to pick that up.

That was day three of their time together, and the first day that she'd noticed that her constant chatter seemed to give him a bit of a headache. She'd been in the bathroom collecting some toiletries . . . talking about God knows what while she did it . . . and then she'd popped back out unexpectedly to see him sitting on the edge of the bed with his eyes closed.

He was scrubbing his hands down his face.

She'd felt a stab of embarrassment and she'd stepped back into the bathroom, hollering before she came back out again, "I'm ready." And sure enough, when she stepped out for the second time, he was standing up and slinging one of the two bags she'd packed onto his shoulder as he asked, "okay, do you need me to carry anything else?"

Just as polite and well mannered as always.

But since that day she'd made more of an effort to dial it down a little.

The sad thing was, she really wasn't doing it to piss him off. It had been more than a decade since she was resentful of the restrictions on her privacy. When Emily was eleven, and her mother was just an ambassador, there had been the first serious attempt on her mother's life.

An agent had been killed protecting her.

Emily had grown up very quickly that day her mother came home with her suit splattered in blood. And a few days later, as she stood between her parents in Arlington at that poor man's funeral, she'd come to understand that the agents assigned to look after them were just doing their jobs.

And that their job meant that if it came down to it, they would literally die for them.

From that day on she had decided that she wouldn't complain about the security restrictions again. She would just make the best of it.

That was the least she could do for the people that were sworn to protect them.

That's why she felt badly that she was irritating Agent Hotchner. Not only did she respect the job that he'd been tasked to do, but he'd also been very nice to her. He'd even sat with her the other day and gone through the Georgetown course catalog to help her pick out her fall schedule.

And that most definitely WASN'T in his job description.

The problem was that she was just naturally talkative. And he just naturally wasn't. Personality wise they didn't seem to have much in common really.

Which sucked . . . she sighed as she stared at his profile . . . because he had those fabulous cheekbones, and he was one of the first security officers she'd had since she turned eighteen, that had been within a datable age for her. His assignment wouldn't last that long, and then he'd just be a nice, cute guy that she knew.

Not that she was necessarily looking for a date.

She really just wished that she had somebody her own age to talk to. Her life was kind of lonely. After so many years of living in a bubble, being taught not to trust people, now she didn't really know how to connect with anyone anymore.

It was hard to form relationships and make friends when she had to tell everyone that she so much as had coffee with, that she needed their social security number so that the Bureau could run a background check on them.

That pretty much killed every relationship . . . romantic and platonic . . . dead in it's tracks.

That's probably why she talked too much.

It filled the silence.

Feeling her eyes start to sting, Emily began to blink frantically to keep them from pooling. It was stupid to feel sorry for herself.

Things would get better . . . she wiped the corner of her eye . . . eventually.

Aaron glanced up to the mirror to see Emily's eyes were watering. His own widened in concern . . . what the hell?

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

This was the first time that he'd seen her anything less than cheerful.

Emily shook her head as she quickly slapped on a watery smile, "nothing, I'm fine. Just um," she cleared her throat, "allergies I guess. You know, country air and all."

He didn't need to know how lonely she was. That wasn't his problem.

Aaron's jaw twitched as he looked back and forth between Emily and the road. He knew a lie when he heard it.

But he really didn't think it was his place to call her on it.

Besides . . . he sighed as he saw the farm stand up ahead . . . they were trained not to get too emotionally invested with their charges. Some of the older agents had told him that was easier said than done. You spend more time with these people than their own families.

They'd warned him that sometimes it was hard not to grow attached.

And Aaron could see that becoming a problem if he was ever given one of these assignments long term. That's why he insisted on calling her "Miss Prentiss" even though by the end of that first week he only thought of her as Emily. He thought it would be easier to stay detached if he retained that formality. And he was only with her for two more weeks. It shouldn't be that hard to keep his distance a little longer. Right?

Right.

Though as he felt the pain in his gut seeing wipe the corner of her eye, Aaron realized that maintaining distance was probably going to be easier said than done.

* * *

_A/N 2: As to whether or not Aaron would actually have been given a second agent to rotate with, in the real world, given the length of the assignment, I'd say, yes, of course. But for purposes here, let's just say no. I wasn't originally planning for it to be a month long thing, but then it became that as I went along and I didn't really want to write in another original character agent that was tagging along on their trip so I decided for once, I would violate my own rule and actually make my fake world fake :) So for the time being he's just a private bodyguard. But that will be explained a bit more in the 2nd chapter.  
_

_The next chapter is already done, done so it will probably be up later tomorrow. I'm really hoping to wrap this whole thing up this weekend . . . I don't want to get that many WIPS out there. But I don't want to get too bogged down in it or that's the ONLY thing I'll get up :) Right now I'm expecting to get two chapters of this up, the 2__nd__ Wrinkle in Time, the next Girl and the last Echoes. And I believe that's actually a realistic output. Again, provided I don't let myself get too sucked up here because my brain keeps wandering back to spend some time with them on this sunny August day. _


	2. Strawberry Fields Forever

**Author's Note**: Okay, I have no idea whether or not you guys are into this one, but I'm like officially OBSESSED with this story! Seriously, I haven't been this wrapped up in one particular world since I started The Hours, which was like one year ago next week. I cranked out another six thousand words for this chapter and I'm already fully immersed in the third one and my brain's just twisting and turning with plot points! I still haven't cleaned up anything else yet. I had planned to take a little break, do some minor read through early this morning on the other stuff. Didn't happen. My brain is totally enamored with this version of them right now.

Maybe because it's just the right tone for me to be working in at the moment. A bit of melancholy with a touch of sweetness. The next Girl is dark and heavy, the next Wrinkle is light and fluffy, this is like my Mama Bear story, it's just right :)

* * *

**Strawberry Fields Forever  
**

When they pulled off the rural access route and turned into the unpaved dusty lot, Aaron picked a parking spot down at the end of the row. It guaranteed that they had a bit of space between them and the other cars.

Though this was probably the safest, i.e. least populated, location they'd been to since he and Emily had met, Aaron still wanted to maintain some physical distance from the other people and their vehicles. He didn't like "crowding" of any kind.

It wasn't safe.

After he took the keys from the ignition, he slipped off his sunglasses and turned around to look at Emily.

"We can't stay too long, okay? It's at least another two hours to the farm, and in case we get turned around getting out of here, I want to make sure that we have a good buffer before it gets dark."

That was the other thing that wasn't safe . . . darkness.

Pretty much his worst nightmare on this assignment would be to be out with her at midnight in the middle of downtown Washington and they got caught in a blackout.

Of course . . . he flashed on the image of the slash marks ripping up her pretty face . . . he had other nightmares too.

Emily gave him a little smile, "I understand. And thanks again for stopping. I really do appreciate it."

His expression softened as he nodded, "no problem. And," he glanced over to the few cars in the lot, "I suppose I can give you a little space here," he looked back at her, "just stay where I can see you, all right?"

"Okay," she responded while reaching for her door handle. But he quickly shook his head.

"No," he went to open his own door," wait for me."

Even though he was lengthening her leash, Emily still knew better than to protest his assistance. So she just nodded and reached down to pick up her bag off the floor as he jumped out of the black sedan and hurried around to her side of the car.

A second later he was opening the door and extending his hand to help her out. Even though she was more than capable of getting out on her own, Emily still let him take her hand.

That wasn't necessarily an agent thing . . . that was a Southern thing. The agent thing meant that he was looking everywhere at once as she swung her feet out. That's what kept her safe.

But she liked the Southern thing more.

When they were reviewing her courses, she'd learned that he went to Harvard. And it was clear that his northern education had pretty much removed any trace of the Virginia from his cadence. But her minor at Georgetown was linguistics, so she could still pick up a faint trace of his roots.

It wasn't just his voice though. He had a bit of old fashioned gentility that bled through his interactions with her even when he was clearly trying to maintain a professional distance.

She thought it was sweet.

As Emily rose up next to him, Aaron inhaled the scent of her perfume . . . roses.

She'd been wearing it the other day too. When he came back from the range she was in the living room watching the news. And when she'd stood up to say goodbye to Agent Garrison, she'd passed right in front of him. His olfactory senses were filled with the same floral aroma.

It was nice.

He blinked once to refocus as his eyes dropped down to hers.

"Don't forget, stay where I can see you. And if you have to go to the bathroom wave me over."

Though they'd been out in public before, this was the first time outside the city. And those previous excursions had all been quick.

To the video store, to the 7/11, to her apartment. All in and out stuff where he'd been attached to her like glue.

But there was no danger here, certainly not from any fanatical religious group, so he wanted to give her a little room to breathe. He wasn't stupid though, just because it _looked_ safe didn't mean he was going to let her go anywhere out his visual range without him checking the place out first.

Most of the nut jobs in the world were not part of an organized group.

Emily nodded perfunctorily.

"Got it."

That one was expected. She'd had men standing outside the door while she went to the bathroom for as long as she could remember. It was actually such a routine activity for her now, that she didn't even find it abnormal or embarrassing.

Which in and of itself showed how strange her life had been.

Aaron's hand glided over Emily's back as they crossed the parking lot.

He knew they made an unusual couple. Even though he'd taken off his jacket in the car, he was still wearing his dress shirt and tie along with his black suit pants. Whereas Emily had on a pink tank top and white shorts and sneakers.

They couldn't have looked more conspicuous together if one of them was wearing a bozo wig.

As they approached the front of the market area . . . it was wide open space with about a dozen vendors under one large awning . . . Aaron patted her back once. Then he slipped past her to head over to the picnic area set up on the other side of the market.

He'd already taken note of the stats while they walked over. Five other cars in the lot, nine people browsing the aisles of fruits and vegetables . . . five Caucasians, four African Americans and three couples amongst the group. There was also one mixed race family sitting at a picnic table eating their lunch.

Not one person in the crowd raised a red flag so he felt comfortable enough to walk away.

Just as Aaron was about to sit down at one of the tables to wait, he saw a payphone a little further down the wooden boardwalk. He looked back at Emily, then down at his watch, and then back to the phone again.

He really should call Haley.

To say that she'd been pissed about his month long assignment would be an understatement. She just couldn't understand how he could be in the same city and couldn't see her. Though he obviously didn't tell her WHO he was guarding, he had told her that it was a 24/7 duty shift and it just wasn't possible to get away.

But that was . . . well, that was a lie.

He'd actually gotten the last two Wednesdays off. A female agent had come over and relieved him from seven to seven each week. He'd gone and visited his mother in the morning, and then the rest of the day he'd spent at the range before he returned to Woodley Park and had dinner with Emily.

There was a reason he'd been given the assignment, he really didn't have much of a life.

When he was told that he'd been picked for this assignment he'd only been pissed about his training being delayed, he honestly hadn't thought once about Haley until AFTER he'd already met Emily and she'd shown him where he could drop his duffel bag.

He'd known for awhile that he and Haley needed to have a conversation, but he wasn't quite sure what to say . . . so he'd been avoiding it.

Really though, how do you tell someone after _SIX _years that you just don't love them anymore?

It had been gradual, but slowly they'd grown apart. And he'd come to see . . . after the fourth wedding she'd dragged him to this year . . . that if he had ever really seen a future with her, then he would have put a ring on her finger years ago.

And though he knew it was wrong to mislead her about his availability . . . that he didn't have ANY . . . he had decided to make the best of this unusual assignment and conduct an experiment.

He wanted to see if he'd miss his girlfriend.

And he was embarrassed to admit, he hadn't. It had been almost three weeks since the last time they'd been together, and he hadn't missed her at all.

Which had honestly surprised even him, and he'd felt badly once he realized just how bad things were. Haley was a nice girl and she deserved to be with someone who really loved her, and wasn't just going through the motions because it was easier to stay together than make that move to break apart.

But his experiment had finally given him that final push he needed to man up. He'd gotten a definitive answer on whether or not he should even try to work on his relationship with her.

There was no point.

Part of him thought that maybe it would be kinder to call and give her that news now so she could move on with her life. But he was sensitive enough to know that you couldn't break up over the phone with a girl you'd been dating exclusively for six years.

That was just . . . skuzzy.

Still though, this definitely couldn't wait until the assignment ended. So his plan was to call and tell her that he'd gotten some time off this week . . . in actuality the regularly scheduled day off . . . and that he needed to talk to her about something.

So Wednesday was designated Breakup Day in his mind.

Aaron glanced back at Emily one more time before he started over to the payphone . . . he'd meant to call Haley before they left the city but he'd completely forgotten. And he really wasn't sure if they'd have a phone at the country house so he figured he should reach out now.

As he approached the booth, he started digging in his pockets for change. A second later he pulled out three quarters and two dimes, which he slipped into the little slot.

Hopefully that would be enough money because he didn't have much more in his pocket besides lint. And after all this time Haley's phone number was ingrained in his head, so he quickly punched in the digits and then turned back around to keep an eye on Emily.

She was still there, clear as day, now five feet over from where he'd left her a moment before. Now she was admiring the array of carrots. The phone began to trill in his ear as he watched Emily pick up a small wire basket. She slipped a bundle of baby carrots into it.

"_Huh, I wonder if that's what we're having for . . . "_

"Hello?"

Aaron's musings about dinner were interrupted by Haley answering the phone.

"Hey, it's me," he jumped right into it, "uh, I can't talk, but I just wanted to let you know that I got a little time off next week and I was wondering if you were free to get together. Maybe Wednesday?"

To his own mind his words sounded slightly stiff. But given that he'd been rehearsing said words in his head for the past forty eight hours, that was perhaps to be expected.

What he _hadn't_ expected was the lengthy pause that would follow. And the longer it went on, the worse the churning in his stomach got.

And then finally Haley spoke again.

And as he'd expected she might be . . . she was pissed.

"You don't call me for TWO **WEEKS** and that's all you have to say to me!? That you have time off Wednesday and want to get together. No, 'how are you Haley?' 'how have you been Haley? 'I'm sorry I haven't _called_, HALEY,' no, just that that YOU want to get together. For what Aaron, to have sex? Is that what you were thinking? That you'd disappear completely, without so much as a PHONE call, even though I'm pretty sure they probably have phones where you are, and then you could just pop up, have a quick FUCK and go back to your job again?"

Aaron flinched at the profanity . . . it was a vulgar image, and not like her at all.

Wow! He'd really made a hell of a mess of things. Not that he'd been attempting to salvage the relationship, but he was still fond of her and had hoped to part amicably.

He was starting to see now that wasn't going to happen.

And as she continued to rip into him, he began to realize that he should have let Haley in on the whole 'experiment thing.' Because she did have some valid points there, he should have at least called to tell her he WOULDN'T be calling. And though he really wasn't calling to get together for sex, he could also see . . . given the brusque phrasing of his statement . . . that perhaps that was how she would have interpreted it.

And that admittedly would have been QUITE tacky.

When she suddenly paused to take a breath, Aaron quickly cut in and got out as much as he could before he lost the window.

"I'm sorry, you're absolutely right, I should have called before. But I did have my reasons, though I can see now that what I did was rude and I apologize for that. And I assure you I was NOT calling today to arrange to have sex. I was calling because I think we need to talk and it's not a conversation that we can have on the phone."

There was another pause. And as he listened to Haley breathe in one ear . . . Aaron stared at Emily a few yards away.

While Haley had been screaming at him, and he had been regretting his actions the past few days, he'd also been watching Emily carefully filling her basket.

They were having salad for dinner. And she'd picked out some granny smith apples so he was pretty sure she was making a pie too. As she began to squeeze the peaches, he made a mental note to get some strawberries before they left.

He liked strawberries.

It was then that he realized that Haley had started talking again and he wasn't even listening. He was just staring at Emily thinking about what they were having for dinner.

And then he heard Haley start to cry and he winced and closed his eyes for a moment.

_God he was an asshole. He's breaking up with his girlfriend of six years and he can't even give her the courtesy of thirty seconds of attention._

As she continued to cry and ask him what it was that he needed to say that he couldn't on the phone, his eyes started to burn. He might not have loved her anymore, but he still cared about her, and he hated putting her through this much pain.

Jesus Christ . . . he rubbed hand across his mouth . . . he'd really fucked this up.

He'd thought that calling to ask her to meet was the right thing to do. After all, it had been two weeks since they'd spoken, but he should have just waited until he got home. He stupidly hadn't anticipated her reading between the lines. And he could infer from the tears that she had accurately deduced the topic of this conversation they couldn't have on the phone.

After all, if he was calling to propose then he would have just blurted it out by now so she'd stop crying. But as it was he couldn't think of one comforting thing to say . . . so like a coward . . . he continued to say nothing.

Emily looked up from her vegetable perusing to see where Agent Hotchner had set up camp. She spun around and saw him about twenty or so feet away on the payphone.

But when their eyes caught she got a funny feeling in her stomach.

He looked . . . upset.

So she took a few steps closer to him and mouthed, 'are you okay?'

And to her surprise . . . he looked away.

She bit her lip before she turned to the women selling the tomatoes, "excuse me, could I leave my basket with you for one second?"

"'Course, sugah," she put her hand out, "hand her over."

Emily gave her a polite smile, "thank you," and then turned to hurry down the boardwalk.

Aaron saw Emily approaching and he fluttered his lashes to get the tears out of his eyes. As she walked up, he put his hand over the mouth of the phone and whispered, "is everything okay?"

Her eyes widened in surprise.

"I came over to ask you that question," she whispered back, "are you all right?"

He nodded as he said quietly, "yeah, I just . . . yeah."

For a moment . . . even though it was completely unprofessional . . . he really wanted to ask her what the hell to do about the girl crying on the other end of the line. But he couldn't ask his charge if it was okay to break up with his girlfriend on the phone.

That was just . . . no.

Even though Emily could tell Agent Hotchner wasn't at all okay . . . she'd never seen his professional demeanor so rattled . . . she didn't really think it would be right to pry about the topic of his phone conversation.

If he didn't want to tell her what was wrong, that was his prerogative. So she just patted his arm and backed away.

"I'll be done in a couple minutes." She said softly.

He swallowed as he heard another sob come through the line, and then he whispered back, "me too."

There was no doubt . . . he had to do this now. It wasn't right to leave Haley hanging for the next six days.

So once Emily was out of earshot, he cleared his throat and just did it fast like he was ripping off a band aid.

"I'm sorry Haley," hearing her then choke back another sob, his eyes started to water again as he continued in a whisper, "I didn't mean to do this on the phone. I just . . . well, I fucked up," he paused, "and you deserved better than that. But I don't . . . well, I don't see a future for us, and I think you should find somebody who can really appreciate you," his voice caught, "you're really a great girl, I just . . . I'm not the guy to make you happy."

She immediately came back, "but you do make me happy! Aaron, we can talk about this. We just need . . ."

And he gently cut her off.

"No Haley. I'm sorry but there's really nothing to talk about."

She began to cry again and as he took a breath, he ran his thumb and index finger along the smooth silver telephone cord.

God this sucked.

He slowly exhaled while watching Emily retrieve her basket from the woman behind the counter. And then he spoke again, "if there's anything of yours at my apartment I'll be home on Wednesday. Just let me . . ."

His voice trailed off as he saw a large man approaching Emily from her blindside. Aaron was too far away to hear what he said to her, but she jumped slightly so Aaron could see that his voice had startled her. But then she gave the man a tight smile and a head shake before she started to step around him . . . but he moved back into her path.

And that was enough for Aaron.

"I'm sorry Haley, I have to go," he sputtered as he slammed down the phone. Then he sprinted across the boardwalk.

Before Emily had a chance to react to the man blocking her way, she felt Agent Hotchner's hand on her back.

"Is everything okay here?"

His words were directed to her, but when she glanced over she could see him staring down the blonde giant in front of them.

Feeling a little of her anxiety lessen, she nodded while taking a step closer to her handler.

"I think so. This _gentleman_ had just asked me if I was free for dinner, and I said no."

And then the douchebag blocked my path, was the _un_verbalized part of the story. But she deduced that Agent Hotchner had already figured out that part for himself or he wouldn't have just swung in like Spiderman.

After pushing Emily slightly behind him, Aaron put his hand on his holster as he stared up coldly at the six, six monstrosity in front of him.

"The lady said no. And the lady's with me," he flashed his badge, "so now it would be best if you went on your way sir."

Though obviously Paul Bunyan wasn't the sender of the letter, Aaron was tasked to protect Emily from all threats.

And gigantic jackasses who can't take no for an answer also made that list.

But from the look in this guy's eyes, Aaron was seriously worried that he might actually be mentally unbalanced. He didn't seem to be processing the first no, the second no, or the very pissed off federal agent standing in front of him with his hand on his weapon.

He shoved his badge back into his pocket and pushed Emily a little further back so she'd be clear in case there was a scuffle. And by "scuffle he meant that if this meathead dropped all three hundred pounds of his thick headed self on top of him and, Aaron had to shoot him just to roll his body free.

Emily looked worriedly back and forth between her agent and the Hulk's stand in.

Though she'd bet money that Agent Hotchner could take this guy out even without his gun . . . he'd been working the dangerous sexy thing since she'd met him . . . she was VERY concerned that his pretty face might get seriously broken in the process.

If one of those meat hooks connected with his nose, he was going to be breathing out of a straw for a month.

But just as Emily was about to put her hand on Agent Hotchner's back to see if he'd just leave with her, the other man finally seemed to take note of the badge and gun on her nanny. There was a disgusted huff, a muttering of "fucking feebs," and then he turned and lumbered back the way he'd come.

After he climbed into a red pickup . . . which sagged slightly to the left from his weight . . . he gunned the engine, turned, and peeled out of the lot.

Aaron made sure he was well on his way before he turned around to face Emily. His brow inched up.

"Are you okay?" he asked as he stepped closer and put his hand on her shoulder.

Hearing the worry in his tone, she gave him a soft smile.

"Yeah," she nodded, "he never laid a hand on me. I was actually more worried about him messing up your face."

Aaron's mouth quivered for a second.

"Thank you for your concern, but I think I would have been okay."

Though she was right, his face getting messed up was a _distinct_ possibility. He looked at her for a moment longer, feeling her warm skin under his fingertips.

And then suddenly he remembered that he'd just slammed down the phone on Haley.

OH JESUS!

Seeing the look of horror that passed over Agent Hotchner's face, Emily's own face twisted in concern as she spontaneously reached over to grab his hand, "what's wrong?!"

His mouth opened and closed as he stammered, "I . . . I . . ." then he suddenly remembered that he was trying to maintain distance here, and sharing his personal problems with Emily Prentiss really wasn't going to do much for keeping separation.

So he yanked his hand off her shoulder . . . he should have done that about ten seconds earlier anyway . . . and slipped his professional mask back into place before he snapped, "I don't think it's appropriate for us to discuss my personal life."

Embarrassed . . . and hurt . . . Emily pulled her hand back and looked away as she said softly, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

Well, so much for making a friend.

Seeing the look of pain that flashed on Emily's face as she pulled her hand back, Aaron winced for the third time in the past ten minutes.

_Asshole! Jesus Aaron, could you not be a complete dick to EVERY woman that you talk to today?!_

So he tried to fix it as he added in a softer tone, "but thank you for your concern though."

He'd hoped that would smooth things over, but it obviously didn't. She was still very subdued as she stared at the ground and nodded slowly, "sure," then she cleared her throat to remove the lump, "um, I just need to pay for these things and we can go."

It was stupid, but she felt like she wanted to cry. It's not like they'd become best buddies or anything, but she'd kind of thought that today he was warming up to her, that there was a possibility that at least maybe they could be friends when this was over.

And now he'd just firmly slammed the door shut on any kind of personal relationship with her.

Realizing that he'd really hurt her feelings, Aaron stood there feeling like at a complete schmuck. It was pretty much a déjà vu of his phone conversation from a few minutes before.

Except this woman was actually standing in front of him, so there was no detachment from the moment.

And then he remembered that they were going to be together for two more weeks. He didn't want to cause a strain for their remaining time together.

Especially when . . . for the most part . . . it was really JUST the two of them. It would be horribly awkward if he left things the way they were now. And if he didn't fix this right away, he knew that it would just fester and get worse.

So even though it went against all of their training, he knew that he was going to have to let her in.

His defenses lowered as he leaned down to catch her eyes. She wasn't crying, but they were watery. And seeing her so upset, and knowing it was his fault, he felt even worse than he had a moment before.

"I'm sorry Emily," he said quietly, "I didn't mean to snap. I know you were just being nice and I was very rude to you," as her eyes slowly lifted to his, he sighed, "I just broke up with my girlfriend. And then I," he rolled his eyes, "well, slammed down the phone before we were done talking. So I'm kind of feeling like a real jackass at the moment. But again," he patted her arm, "it was wrong to snap at you."

There, now he'd completely violated all of his personal and professional rules about keeping her at arm's length. Hopefully it hadn't been for nothing.

Because if that didn't wipe that sad look off her face, he was pretty much at a loss as to what to do next.

Emily stared at him for a moment, for the first time since they'd met, she felt like she was talking to the real him.

And then two things that he said jumped out at her.

He'd called her Emily. But that thought immediately slipped away as the other one slammed into the forefront of her brain.

"You broke up with your girlfriend on a PAYPHONE?" she asked in astonishment.

Wow! That was . . . really, really jerky. She bit her lip . . . maybe those cheekbones were attached to somebody she'd be better off without.

His head dropped to his chest . . . shit. It was too much to hope that she wouldn't pick up on that.

"It was an accident," he mumbled, "I called to see if she was free to meet Wednesday to talk and she guessed the topic of the conversation," he blew out a disgusted huff, "it sort of all went downhill from there."

He really wasn't good with women. Perhaps that was because next to Haley, he'd only ever had one semi-serious girlfriend. But that was back in high school. And after they left for college they just didn't see each other anymore. This was the first time he'd ever had to break up with a woman.

Obviously . . . he rubbed his hand across his mouth . . . he really could have used some pointers before he had attempted it for real.

Suddenly remembering the distress on his face when she looked across the boardwalk, Emily felt a pang of sympathy for him that overrode the wariness that was starting to make an unwelcome appearance.

Even though she hadn't understood at the time, it was obvious that he was really upset about what was happening on the phone.

Okay . . . she breathed a sigh of relief . . . good. That meant that he wasn't the callous jerk that she'd started to think maybe was lurking under that polite facade she'd been seeing these past couple weeks.

He'd just made a mistake.

And . . . she bit her lip in sympathy . . . it was obvious that he was beating himself up over it.

She tentatively reached over and lifted his chin. Once he was looking at her again she pulled her hand back and said softly, "well, maybe you could call her back and apologize."

Feeling a little tingle where Emily's fingers had been a moment before, Aaron slowly shook his head, "no, I think I've done enough damage for one day. I shouldn't have had that conversation with her on the payphone," he huffed humorlessly, "if she wants to scream and call me a bastard then I should probably let her do that in person. I'll just deal with it when I get home."

Maybe. It kind of depended on whether Haley wanted to talk to him again. He figured at some point she would because he knew that there were probably a few of her things at his place that she'd want back.

On the contrary, there was nothing of his at her place that he couldn't live without.

Emily could easily read the guilt on his face. This was the longest stretch of time that he'd let his professional mask fall away. And as badly as she felt for him, she also felt a little spark of hope in her heart.

This was the first time she'd felt connected to another person in forever. It was a tenuous strand, but . . . she reached down to squeeze his fingers . . . it was something.

And she kind of wanted to give him a hug, but she knew that would be majorly overstepping. So instead she just gave him a little smile, "perhaps it would be best to let her yell at you in person."

His eyes crinkled slightly at her words of support. Then he sighed and looked back down to the basket in her hand, "so are you done shopping?"

Enough of his personal crap, they needed to get on the road again.

Her eyes dropped down to what she'd placed in the little wire basket, "uh, yeah, I think so. I got salad stuff, some potatoes, fresh veggies and stuff to make a pie," she looked back up to him with a curious smile, "do you like apple pie?"

It seemed like a basic so she thought it was a safe bet.

His lip quirked up, "I do," then he jerked his thumb over his shoulder, "but I wanted to get some strawberries too."

As he turned, Emily fell into step beside him as she asked with interest, "is that your favorite fruit?"

It was a silly thing to be so curious about, but he'd shared more with her in the last five minutes than he had over the last two weeks.

She didn't want to lose the moment.

He nodded as they stepped up to the crate full of loose red berries, "yeah," he grabbed a small cardboard container and began filling it up, "yeah they are."

Emily watched him for a second before she turned away, her eyes scanning over the tables that she'd perused a few minutes before. And then she spotted what she was looking for and hurried over to grab a small bundle. When she came back he was just slipping the cover onto his container of fruit.

To Aaron's surprise, Emily handed him the basket and then started filling her own box of strawberries. Though he wasn't feeling particularly cheerful, his lips twitched slightly as he watched her, "you know I would have shared. You don't have to buy your own."

She flashed him a soft smile before she turned back to pick a few more choice berries from the box, "I thought I'd make you a pie," she tipped her head down to the basket in his hands, "I got some rhubarb too. My Gramma leaves all of her recipe books at the country house and I know she has a good recipe for strawberry rhubarb," she popped the lid onto her box of fruit before she looked up at him with a sympathetic smile, "I thought it might make you feel better."

He stared at her for a moment and then he swallowed, "thanks."

God she was sweet.

As she started to reach for the basket again he shook his head, "I got it," he slipped the strawberries out of her hand and placed them with her other purchases. They started to walk over to the main register and she began fumbling in her purse for her wallet but he shook his head as he placed the basket on the counter and pulled out his own wallet, "I've got it."

"But Agent Hotchner," Emily tried to protest, "I bought a lot of food."

That was nice of him but it really wasn't necessary. Her grandparents had a trust set up for her that kicked in when she was eighteen. As trust funds went, there wasn't an enormous amount of money in it . . . her parents had insisted that she not be spoiled . . . but she did okay.

As long as she was in school she got $1500 a month. That covered her rent on her little studio, plus her utilities. The rest of her expenses were taken care of by some part time shift work she did at the coffee shop around the corner. And if she needed some extra money, she picked up a little tutoring on the side. Once she graduated and had a regular paycheck, the trust would only dispense a thousand dollars.

Just enough of a supplement that she wouldn't have to struggle to make ends meet.

Rather than being resentful that her parents had kept those purse strings snipped so short, she'd actually been grateful. She'd grown up around rich kids and she couldn't understand their sense of over inflated self worth. They felt like the world owed them, yet contributed nothing back to it.

But she liked working. Most of the people were nice to her and she got out of the house.

And though she knew that she'd have to work much harder if she didn't have her family money, she felt some sense of pride that she was kind of making her own way.

Which meant that he didn't have to pay for her now.

Aaron slid a twenty over to the cashier as he shook his head, "no, you're cooking, the least I can do is pay for dinner." As he accepted his change he looked down at her with a little smile, "and you don't have to call me Agent Hotchner. It's Aaron, okay?"

He'd already violated all of his other rules. And he'd just totally unprofessionally spilled his guts about completely fucking up his breakup with his girlfriend.

If that didn't put them on a first name basis he didn't know what would.

"Okay," she flashed him a brilliant smile, "Aaron it is."

That's when she remembered that he'd called her Emily a few minutes before. He was going to call her Emily and she could call him Aaron.

Finally . . . she felt a little burst of happiness in her heart . . . pay dirt!

And for that reason, Emily had to restrain herself from putting a little skip in her step as they turned and started back towards the car.

All it had taken to knock down that wall between them was one messy breakup with his girlfriend.

Though . . . she snuck a little glance in his direction . . . she did still feel really badly for him, and that definitely dampened her happiness. Not that he seemed heartbroken actually, just guilty and kind of . . . sad.

Again she felt the urge to touch him, to give him a hug and pat his back. She missed having somebody to hug. Especially when she was sad.

But she kept her hands to herself.

Just because the man had assented to move them to a first name basis didn't mean he was looking to get mauled in the parking lot.

Her arm brushed against his as they walked along.

But maybe later tonight she could get him to talk about what happened a little bit. She bit her lip . . . that and some pie might make him feel better.

Aaron felt a little of the ache in his heart fade as he felt Emily's arm brush against him. The summer sun had been beating down on her bare skin, and he could feel the warmth of her body through his dress shirt.

It was nice.

He shuffled the paper bag to his other hand as he began to dig out his keys. After they arrived at the car, Emily took the bag from him and he unlocked the back door for her.

After her slender legs disappeared inside the cavernous space, he stared down at the spot where they they'd been a moment before.

Then he shook his head, slammed the door shut, and hurried around to the driver's side door.

He was starting to see that he might be in a little bit of trouble.

* * *

_A/N 2: Again, I'm totally wrapped up in this version of them right now and I don't know why. But I hope you're enjoying it because I think you'll be getting a lot of them this week. _

_Yeah, Aaron really messed up here with the breakup. But keep in mind they're much younger and there's no behavioral training, or just years on the planet to call upon to get things right. He's just a young guy who handled something really badly. And yes, he was a bit oblivious that the reason he'd finally manned up and realized it was time to break things off with Haley was because he was beginning to have feelings for Emily. That helped along his "experiment."_

_The scene where he's on the phone and Haley's sobbing but he's just staring at Emily calmly filling her basket, I was thinking of this movie when I wrote that. The Sweet Hereafter. It's a phenomenally good film (good book too) but it's also, warning if you haven't seen it, devastatingly tragic. But there's a scene in it with Ian Holm talking to his drug addict daughter on the phone and you can hear her saying these terrible things, but the flashes on the screen are his memories of her as a baby. And that's where my brain was when I wrote that segment. He was just escaping from the ugliness of the moment by allowing his brain to focus on what was actually making him happy._

_Again, I have the next bit partly done here so it might be up tomorrow night. BUt please let me know if you're enjoying it so far. Either way though, I'm warning you, if you have me on alert, your inbox is going to be LOUSY with chapters on this over the next week :)_


	3. Kaleidoscopes

**Author's Note:** See how much I can crank out when properly motivated?

Thank you to everyone who dropped a note on the last one. I didn't actually have time to write back to anyone yet AND write this, but I will :)

And I wanted to add on a related note, your reviews gave me some good ideas! I don't want to 'ruin' anything now so I'll explain at the end a couple bits I added specifically because of stuff somebody said.

* * *

**Kaleidoscopes**

They pulled into the driveway of the grandparents' ranch just after six. The shadows were getting long, but not from the lateness of the hour. Off in the distance, Aaron could see that black clouds were moving in from the East.

There would be a storm tonight.

As he slipped the keys from the ignition he heard a rustling of the paper and plastic bags in the backseat. Emily was picking up their purchases, both from the farm stand and the little mom and pop grocery that they'd just stopped at in the center of town.

And just like a few hours before, again he slipped off his sunglasses, turning to face her before he got out of the car.

"I want you to stay here while I check the place out. So," he extended his hand, "keys please."

Emily nodded as she began digging into her purse for the house key. A second later she yanked something from the depths of her bag and handed it to him.

Aaron's lips began to twitch as he accepted the item from her hand.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, "thanks."

The keys were attached to a giant Donald Duck key chain.

Seeing his amusement, Emily chuckled.

"I know. It's just that I don't use these keys very often and I was afraid that I'd lose them. That was the biggest keychain I could find."

He gave her a little grin.

"So I guess if you had a bigger bag, then you would have hung them off a hub cap."

Emily's mouth quivered in response.

"Get me a bigger bag and we'll find out."

That was the third joke since they got back on the road. Now that they were on first names he'd really loosened up.

And it was so nice to see him smile!

He had DIMPLES! She hadn't known that before, but she'd said something to him in the car about the big oaf in the parking lot and he'd grinned at her in the mirror.

It was adorable.

Aaron snorted at Emily's joke, but then his amusement began to fade as he looked back at her again.

Even if the car was locked and he was only a scream away, he really wasn't feeling all that comfortable about leaving her alone. But he was _less_ comfortable doing a security sweep of the house with her hanging off of his belt.

She'd be a distraction and he might miss something.

"Okay," he said gently, "you lock up and I'll be back in a few minutes."

Emily gave him a little smile,"okay," then she watched as he turned back around and stepped out of the car. A second later the door slammed shut behind him.

She immediately leaned over the seat to push down the lock.

And then through the window, she saw him remove his weapon from his holster . . . the first time she'd seen him do that since they'd met . . . and check the safety before he started around the corner of her family's summer home.

Even though she knew that it was his job, it was still a little weird seeing Agent . . . Aaron, she corrected herself . . . Aaron, actually _carrying_ a gun.

Emily slumped back against the seat, chewing her lip.

Though she'd been around men carrying all manner of handguns and automatic weapons for her entire life, she still couldn't get used to the guns themselves. She thought that maybe it was the death of that agent years earlier that caused her personal discomfort with them.

Unlike most people, she actually had "intimate" knowledge of the damage that a bullet can inflict.

But the problem with that was, she'd been considering maybe going into law enforcement herself. But her gun phobia was clearly a stumbling block there. How could she possibly join any agency or police department tasked with protecting the public, and not carry a gun?

Well . . . she huffed to herself . . . she could move to England and become a bobby, but she'd really hoped to stay a little closer to home.

She sighed, well, maybe this weekend she could ask Aaron if he'd take her target shooting out by the woods. Perhaps if she had more direct knowledge of what she was afraid of, she'd stop being so afraid.

Okay . . . she checked her watch . . . something to remember to ask him after dinner.

/*/*/*/*

It only took Aaron a few minutes to finish his sweep of the yard.

Though he'd never been there before, he didn't find anything that looked amiss to him. No footprints, signs of squatters, etc.

Just as he was coming back around the front of the house, he remembered that he needed to the water on.

So he turned back the way that he'd just coming.

Fortunately the family had the power on to the house from May to October. That was really very lucky because he would have hated to have to call the electric company for this weekend trip.

He might have actually vetoed the whole thing if it had come down to such a public advertisement of their activities.

But as it was, all he had to deal with was the water. And once he was done turning the gauge, he circled back around the house again. And after a quick check to make sure Emily was still right where he left her . . . sitting in the car, she gave him a little wave . . . he headed up the wide wooden steps leading to the open porch of the Prentiss family's summer home.

The ridiculous key chain went back into his pocket after he unlocked the front door.

Then he slowly pushed the heavy oak door and stepped inside the entry way.

Emily had told him there was a security panel just inside the door, and his eyes slid quickly to the left to locate the flashing the red lights. He quickly punched in the code she'd given him before the alarm went off.

And then . . . keeping his weapon out, but safety _on_ . . . he began a quick search of the downstairs.

The place was pretty big. Six rooms on the lower level, pine floors, fire places in all the rooms, including the kitchen. It wasn't so much a family ranch . . . the term Emily used that kept making him think of cattle . . . as more a roomy New England style country home.

It was really nice.

He actually liked it even better than the main house he'd been staying at the last couple weeks. And that house made his very nice one bedroom apartment in Alexandria look like a room in the homeless shelter.

His eyes ran admiringly over the wainscoting running the length of the hallways . . . but if this was _his _place, he'd be here all the time.

And apparently . . . he started up the main staircase off the living room . . . they were here all the time when Emily was younger.

At least that's what she'd been saying in the car.

But since her grandfather's stroke a few years ago, and her mother's appointment to the cabinet halfway through the president's second term . . . she said they were lucky to get up there a week every summer.

His eyes scanned the thick layer of dust covering the railing . . . apparently they didn't get here at all this year.

He started feel a pang of sympathy for the pretty girl waiting for him in the car. He'd noticed on the last leg of their journey, that Emily had seemed sad as she talked about the happy memories she had of coming here when she was a child.

It was obvious that she missed things being the way they were before. Probably going many years back, before her mother joined the cabinet, and her father had become the Minority Whip.

Even if she was an adult now, Aaron could see that if the only real family she had, literally had NO time for her, that would be very depressing.

Though she hadn't actually come out and used that word, that's what he'd inferred from her subdued tone.

That's when Aaron realized that today was the first time that her conversation had been of a melancholy nature. Usually she was cheerful, talking about anything and everything.

Not that she ever sounded mindless or inane, not at all.

Emily was very intelligent and well educated, so she could literally go on for hours about almost any topic. And _that_ was what had been an adjustment for him.

But . . . his brow wrinkled as a thought came to him . . . she never really talked about anything personal. He hadn't noticed that before. She didn't talk about friends or going to clubs or boyfriends or really anything typically social for a girl in college.

Though he knew because of the security detail that there was no current boyfriend, he found it hard to believe that a girl like her had never been in a serious relationship.

She was pretty, intelligent, kind hearted and good natured. Anybody with a brain should have snatched her up.

His lips pursed as he walked slowly around the second floor . . . but maybe not though.

Because, as he thought about the kind of girl that she was in the context of the life that she had led . . . he didn't see her being very trusting of strangers.

So it was probably hard for her to meet people.

He felt a stab of guilt . . . that's why she'd been trying so hard with him these past couple weeks. They were almost the same age, he was "safe," and she was probably looking for someone to talk to.

And he'd rebuffed her at every turn.

Even if he'd had a good reason, still though . . . he sighed . . . he felt like a real jerk.

Now that he'd finished the upstairs sweep, as he stood in the hall his eyes again tracked over the layers of dust, and the cobwebs in the corners of the bedrooms. Now he was seeing it all in a new light.

This was her favorite place in the world . . . and nobody had been here in months.

Maybe even a year.

A wave of sadness filled his heart. He was starting to see that perhaps he wasn't the only one that had been projecting a certain image these past few weeks.

Him of being professionally detached from any feelings for her. And her . . . he stopped to look at a Christmas photo from Emily's youth . . . and her . . . he felt a knot in his stomach as he traced her smiling face . . . her of being a happy girl.

That was just an illusion.

Grinding his teeth for a moment at that realization, Aaron turned back around to look through the second floor picture window. It faced the woods behind the house.

At this time of year the foliage was so thick that he couldn't see anything past the tree line.

They were definitely isolated out here. And that most likely meant there would be no problems this weekend.

But on the flipside . . . the knot in his stomach twisted a little tighter . . . if something happened, there would be no backup.

None at all.

And with that disturbing thought . . . one he could have done without . . . Aaron suddenly took note of how much darker out it was now than when he'd come in a few minutes before. Though when he checked his watch, his eyes widened in alarm as he realized that it hadn't just been a 'few' minutes.

It had been almost ten.

SHIT!

He spiraled around on his heel and starting running down the staircase.

SHIT! SHIT! SHIT!

Though intellectually he knew that the premature darkness was just the storm clouds rolling in, he suddenly felt absolutely panic stricken about leaving Emily outside by herself.

Finally Aaron burst through the front door and sprinted down the steps. But he didn't let loose the breath he'd been holding, until he saw Emily still waiting patiently in the backseat.

She was just fine. And seeing that, his breath came out in a huff.

OH THANK YOU GOD! He thought as he smacked his knuckles on the window.

Thank you for that.

Emily jumped at the sharp rapping on the glass beside her.

_'WHAT THE . . .!'_

Then she let out the breath she'd sucked in when she saw it was Aaron back again. With a shake of her head, she leaned over to unlock the door. And as he pulled it open, she shot him a little scowl. "You scared me."

Her heart had stopped for a second. It was getting darker out and she was really hoping he got back before the thunder rolled in.

"I'm sorry," Aaron said apologetically with a wince at her reproach, "I didn't mean to," he put his hand out, "I just realized that it's going to rain soon, so we need to get everything inside quickly."

_'Also I was afraid that somebody was going to slip out of the woods, break the glass and slash your throat while I was upstairs fucking around,'_ was the NON verbalized part of that sentence.

After he'd helped Emily out of the back seat, he paused for a moment to look down at her.

This trip was suddenly starting to seem like a bad idea.

Seeing the odd look on Aaron's face, Emily's brow wrinkled quizzically as she tipped her head to the side.

"Is something wrong?"

It was strange, but he looked almost . . . nervous. And this was a man who . . . in the two weeks that she'd known him . . . seemed pretty much unflappable. He'd stared down that huge creep in the parking lot without so much as a blink.

And that guy didn't even have a NECK!

"No," Aaron dragged his eyes away from Emily's to scan the dark woods around them, "no, everything's fine," he put his hand between her shoulder blades and guided her around to the trunk. "I was just thinking that maybe it would be best if we didn't separate again."

She stopped and looked up at him worriedly, "did you see something in the house that bothered you?"

Realizing that he was freaking her out . . . and most likely very unnecessarily, his rational brain pointed out . . . Aaron quickly shook his head. "No, no, not at all. Just being cautious. It's a little quieter out here than I'm used to, and I guess it's just making me a bit . . . jumpy."

That's all it was. Just the change in scenery.

Nothing more.

Emily suddenly realized that his arm had slid all the way around her shoulders and he was pulling her against his side. It would have been really nice if she didn't feel a bit of desperation in the way he was gripping her.

He definitely seemed rattled. And after years of living around the world with people that were trained to keep them alive, she'd learned not to dismiss their instincts.

If he was this jumpy, even if he was just chalking it up to country living . . . she moved an inch closer to him . . . then she'd go with his instincts too.

Feeling Emily's hair tickle his chin, Aaron suddenly realized how close he'd pulled her to his body. And though it was inadvertent . . . just protective instinct really . . . he knew that it wasn't particularly appropriate either.

Well, at least for the next two weeks it wasn't very appropriate.

But then . . . he inhaled those roses again . . . well, he'd decided upstairs that maybe he'd see if she wanted to maybe go out sometime.

His gaze shifted back to the dark woods as he breathed in her scent once more.

Though he might have found her chatter a little frustrating at times, he had a feeling that he was going to really miss it when it was gone. And now that he'd begun to see that her little castle was made out of nothing but sand, he couldn't imagine completely cutting her out of his life once this was done.

It would feel a bit like abandoning her.

And for now . . . he rubbed her shoulder for a moment before he pulling his arm away to slip the key into the trunk . . . he felt better with her stuck to his side anyway.

It was safer.

But he knew that having her stuck to his side meant that it was going to take forever to empty the car. So he looked down at her with a raised eyebrow.

"How about we just move everything up to the porch and then afterwards we'll bring it in together?"

That way neither of them would be more than ten feet from the other.

Emily nodded as she shifted the paper bag in her arms, "sounds good. I'll just go drop this by the door and then I'll come back down and get my bag."

He watched her jog up the steps and drop her purse and groceries, then he turned back to begin pulling things out of the trunk. She was at his side again ten seconds later, hefting both of their duffel bags over her shoulder.

"Hey," he scowled slightly as he reached over, pulling them off of her shoulder and slipping them onto his own, "I'll carry those. They're heavy. Here," he pulled out the box with her VCR in it, "this isn't too bad."

She rolled her eyes good naturedly at him. "You know I work out every day. I bet I could have carried two duffel bags without tipping over into the dirt."

His eyebrow went up knowingly, "uh, but if you _did_ tip over into the dirt then I'd have to carry the duffel bags AND you up the steps. And you'd be all dusty," he shot a dimple at her, "you'd mess up my good suit."

She chuckled, "nice save," before she turned and jogged up the stairs again.

Aaron grabbed the cooler of soft drinks and followed her up, dumping that, the duffels and the bag full of her videotapes and books into the pile.

"Crap," Emily said as she saw the first fat wet drop hit the roof of the car, "it's beginning to rain."

They both hurried back down the steps again and Emily grabbed the pillows and blankets out of the trunk . . . she wasn't sure if the ones in the house would smell musty . . . and Aaron ran around the side to get the two other bags of groceries from the back seat.

He slipped those handles through his fingers, grabbed his jacket hanging over the seat, and slammed the door shut. Just as he ran up the steps behind Emily the sky opened up.

She grinned at him, "just made it."

His lip quirked up, "yup," then he scooped the duffels back onto his shoulder and gestured with his chin, "after you."

After Emily had Aaron's jacket from him, she stepped inside with that, and the pillows and blankets. Then she disappeared around the corner to drop the things they didn't want to get dirty onto the couch. He dropped his armful onto the entryway rug, and turned back to heft the rest of their items through the open doorway.

Emily returned a second later and started sliding everything down the hall that Aaron had put inside.

All in all it didn't take more than a minute or so before all of their stuff was transferred off the porch.

Then Aaron stepped in, locked the door, hit the two deadbolts and set the alarm.

When he looked up he saw Emily looking worriedly at him.

"Are you sure there's nothing specific that's bothering you?" She took a step closer to him, "you can tell me you know. I'm not going to go all girly hysterical."

He closed the small distance between them and reached out to squeeze her fingers.

"I promise you Emily," he said seriously, "I wouldn't keep a secret like that from you. If there was something to be concerned about I would tell you. And honestly, if there was ANY concrete reason to be worried, you should know by now that I'd toss you back into the car and drive all night back to the city," he gave her a little smile, "really, I'm just a city kid and not used to all the quiet. It's rattling my nerves."

That was all it was. He was _sure_ that's all it was.

In two weeks there had been no further threats against her. And there was no possibility that they'd been followed from DC . . . the drive was too long and the roads were too backwater. So nobody knew they were here now except for his boss and the team watching the house back home. And on the _ridiculously_ off chance that any of those totally vetted people . . . all of which carried badges . . . were behind her death threat, they would have had ample opportunity to take a shot at her in the city.

It would have been a waste of gas for them to follow them all the way out here.

Emily squinted hard at him for a moment before nodding.

"Okay, just checking," she said while leaning down to pick up the groceries they'd bought at the little market, "I've had security officers keep things from me before because they thought they were protecting me from things I couldn't handle," she straightened up then, turning back to give him a hard look as she said firmly, "don't do that to me, okay?"

He nodded once, "I promise."

There was no doubt in his mind that she was strong enough to handle whatever came along. And he wouldn't be so disrespectful as to treat her like a child.

This was her life, and she certainly had the right to know if she was in danger.

With a shake of his head at those men who had lied to her before, Aaron picked up the cooler and bag of farm stand purchases. Then he followed her down to the kitchen.

The refrigerator wouldn't be cold for a few for more hours so he put the cooler on the counter and went over to remove the lower shelves from the fridge.

The ice in the cooler was melting so he figured one inside the other would provide a bit more insulation.

When he turned back around, he saw that Emily had taken all of the soda out of the thermal box and was about to put their perishables into the icy water.

"Wait," he spotted a large metal mixing bowl on the other side of the kitchen. He went over and grabbed it, blowing off the dust as he returned to Emily and dropped it into the cooler.

It just fit.

"There," he gave self satisfied nod, "now if the bag leaks the containers won't get soggy."

Her eyes crinkled as she lowered the egg crate into the bowl, "so smart," she turned to wink at him, "they teach you that at Harvard?"

He nodded seriously, "yeah, I did an anthropology internship in Jellystone National Park."

She stared at him for a moment, saw that he was serious, and then burst out laughing, "you goofball! That's not a real park! That's where Yogi the Bear lived!"

God, what the hell did they teach him up north!

His eyebrow rose in confusion, "are you sure? Because I could have sworn it was Jellystone."

He tried really hard to keep a straight face as he stared at her but then his mouth started to quiver and as the reality that she'd just been played hit her, Emily's jaw dropped and she squealed at him.

"You're so dead mister!"

Emily snatched an ice cube out of the cooler . . . but he'd anticipated that move. And before she could take more than a step towards him he'd caught her around the waist, pulling her against his body with one hand as his other deftly caught her arm and slipped the piece of ice out of it. Then he tossed it back into the cooler before he looked down.

"You might work out every day," he responded flatly, "but I graduated from what is essentially marine boot camp, less than seven months ago."

Her lips twitched for a second.

"Fine, I will allow that you, a trained MALE federal agent that has probably zero body fat, has greater upper body body strength than I do," then her eyebrow quirked up in amusement, "happy?"

She for one was quite happy. Her entire front was pressed against his entire front. And she didn't know what the hell he had to do to get through Quantico, but given the hard muscles she could feel she'd really like to see what he looked like without the suit on.

As the reality of what she'd just thought hit her, she started to blush profusely and dipped her head down.

_'Geez . . . that was REALLY inappropriate Emily_,' she chastised herself.

Aaron wasn't sure what he noticed first, that he still had Emily pinned against his body . . . he probably should let her go . . . or that she appeared to be really rattled about something.

The second realization overrode any concerns he had about the first.

And his brow wrinkled in concern as his free hand came over to gently lift her chin.

"Hey, what's wrong?"

Trying to calm the blush from her cheeks . . . it was so embarrassing to have your hormones take over like that . . . Emily shook her head as she tried to give him a little smile.

"Uh, nothing, just . . ." her nose wrinkled, "nothing."

There wasn't really a plausible . . . platonic . . . excuse she could give him that would explain her reaction to him. She hadn't been this close to a cute guy, in well, ever.

No relationships that lasted longer than coffee meant no relationships that lasted long enough for her to even consider having sex with that person.

So . . . she swallowed hard as she looked up at him . . . Aaron Hotchner and his fabulous cheekbones were really SERIOUSLY messing with her hormones right now.

Though it was very much against his better judgment, Aaron held onto Emily a moment longer. He was just trying to figure out what her deal was . . . if she really was okay . . . but then she gave him a shy smile and he couldn't help one of his dimples sliding out of their usual hiding place.

_Well, it looked like she was okay now. _

And he was just about to let her go, when a huge clap of thunder broke over the house.

She jumped in his arms.

So he tightened his grip around her waist again while whispering, "it's just the storm." And when she jerked her head and whispered back a nervous, "right," he asked worriedly.

"Do thunderstorms bother you?"

The metro area had been going through a bit of a drought, so . . . even though it was the season for them . . . they hadn't had any major storms in the city for a few weeks.

At least as long as he'd been staying with her.

She shook her head, "not like phobically. I mean I'm not a big fan but," her lip quirked up, "I'm not going to go hide in the closet or anything."

"Glad to hear it," he said assuredly, then he added a beat later, "after all if you're hiding in the closet, who's going to make my dinner?"

Whether or not she was going to admit it, it was becoming obvious from the way she jumped every time the thunder boomed that Emily had a serious problem with the thunder. He thought keeping her distracted with a joke might help alleviate some of her tension.

Also . . . he winked at her . . . it gave him a legitimate excuse to hold onto her for another minute.

He was realizing that he could easily get used to it.

Before Emily could even call Aaron a sexist pig for the dinner comment, he'd winked at her and she ended up laughing instead.

She couldn't believe the difference between "Agent Hotchner" and "Aaron" was this dramatic. And all she needed to break through the shell was to get permission to drop his title.

Hmm . . . the title thing must be his main method of keeping distance. Interesting. If she'd realized this fact two weeks ago she would have been working on changing what she called him rather than what he called her.

Though . . . he'd dropped her title too, so perhaps it was a combination of both actions that resulted in this new much more approachable man in front of her.

Aaron smiled as he slowly let go of her and stepped back, "I'm going to go pull the curtains and check the locks on the windows," he looked down worriedly, "you'll be okay by yourself?"

They both knew he was talking about the thunder. And he would have stayed longer in the kitchen but he didn't want to coddle her.

He didn't really think she'd appreciate it.

She smiled, "yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks."

He shot her one more dimple as he walked away calling back over his shoulder, "I'll bring the bags upstairs too."

Once he'd disappeared into the hall, Emily sighed. Then with a huff, she turned back to start putting away the groceries.

/*/*/*/*/

Aaron stood at the top of the landing. His gaze was bouncing from doorway to doorway as he tried to decide just where the hell they were supposed to sleep. He'd already done the sweep up here earlier, so he knew that the room on the far right was a master suite.

As was the room down the opposite side of the hall.

Okay . . . he started working things out logically . . . so those would be the rooms . . . logically . . . where the grandparents and Emily's folks stayed.

That left three more moderate sized bedrooms running next to each other down the hall.

And after poking his head into each one, he decided that the second one was most likely where Emily stayed when she was visiting.

There was nothing that he could put his finger on that made that guest room any more likely to be hers than the other two, but he still felt good about his choice.

So he went in to drop her things on the bed when he suddenly saw a brown recluse spider crawling across the headboard.

Without even thinking, he dropped everything that he was holding to dive over and smack it with the palm of his hand before it disappeared. And hearing the crunch . . . and feeling the squish . . . he knew that he'd definitely killed it.

Though the body had disappeared behind the bed.

For a moment he considered going looking for it . . . just because it seemed rude to leave an insect corpse in someone's home . . . but then his nose wrinkled unpleasantly as he felt the venom start to make his hand itch.

Well . . . he comforted himself as headed back out to the main bathroom off the hall . . . at least it hadn't BITTEN him.

Still though . . . he rolled his eyes . . . that probably wasn't his wisest move. But as soon as he'd seen it, he'd just suddenly pictured it crawling into Emily's hair when she was sleeping. From there he kind of acted on instinct.

A _stupid _instinct perhaps, but . . . he turned on the faucet with a sigh . . . he'd meant well.

It took almost thirty seconds for the water to run clear from the rust in the pipes, and then he ran his hand underneath it, rinsing off the poisonous venom. He picked up an old piece of soap off the ink, scrubbed up and then rinsed again.

His palm was still a little pink and warm when he was done, but he could see that there were no puncture marks, and it had stopped itching. Basically he figured if he just left it alone, it would be fine.

Hopefully.

Before he left the bathroom, Aaron dug around under the sink until he found some old rags. Then he sprayed one with 409 and brought it back down to the room where he'd just killed the spider. He washed the guts off the headboard and then wiped the cobwebs out of the corners and from the lamp. After that, he folded the towel in half and wiped the layer of dust off all of the surfaces in the room.

And once _that_ was done, he took the blankets off the bed, shook them out . . . and put them back on again.

Once the room looked clean . . . and most importantly, spider free . . . he picked up Emily's things and put them down on the end of bed.

Though it was probably nuts, he suddenly had an image of the current pillow being a brown recluse nest. And the thought rattled him enough that he grabbed the pillow by the corner and yanked it off the bed before he threw it out the door.

He replaced it with the one she'd brought from home.

After Emily's room was all put back together nicely, he went out to the landing and yelled down the stairs.

"You doing okay?"

The thunder was down to a low rumble.

She immediately called back, "I'm good, just finished cleaning the kitchen so I can start dinner."

He yelled back, "'kay, I'll be down in a few. I'm just wiping things down up here."

After another trip to the bathroom to wet a fresh rag, Aaron went in and cleaned out his bedroom in a similar fashion as he'd done hers.

That pillow also went flying into the hall.

And once he'd put everything away he also decided to wipe the dust off the railing and clean the bathroom . . . might as well get the whole upstairs livable . . . before he kicked both pillows down the stairs, unlocked the front door and put them out on the porch.

Sometimes you just get creeped out enough that no rationalization will make the creepy thought go away. Some small part of his brain was convinced that there were spiders nesting in those pillows. And it wasn't _that_ farfetched an idea . . . so it just got stuck in his head.

He shuddered as he relocked the front door.

_Gross._

"Are you okay?"

Aaron spun around on his heel to see Emily looking at him with curious amusement.

Crap.

"Uh yeah," he stepped away from the door, "I uh, just needed to put some stuff outside to air out."

That statement was _just_ close enough to the truth for him to say it with a straight face.

Emily tipped her head, "oh, okay. Well, I got your pie in the oven and I was just about to start dinner, but then I realized I didn't ask what you wanted."

They'd picked up hot dogs, hamburgers and deli meat.

Aaron started walking closer as he gave her a little smile, "why don't we just have hot dogs and maybe a salad. That'll be quick and easy, right?"

Though he really appreciated her making the pie for him, he did hate to put her out.

He was there to look after her, NOT for her to wait on him.

Tomorrow he figured he could do hamburgers outside, and then he'd be contributing a little bit to the dinner prep. He would have offered to cook something before, but again, he was trying to maintain that detached professionalism. And he was afraid that with them already living together and watching the news together and splitting English muffins in the morning together, if he started actually _making_ meals with her too, then things would get a little too . . . domestic.

But he figured that now that they were on a first name basis . . . and he'd for all intents, basically taken the girl away for the weekend(!) . . . there was really no way to avoid the domesticity trap. So he decided that he might as well just loosen up a little and start pitching in to help on the few things that he wasn't before.

Emily nodded as they started to walk back towards the kitchen, "yeah, that sounds good," then her lip quirked up as she shot him a look, "do you think you can 'cook' the hotdogs while I do the salad?"

For the past two weeks, they'd been eating take out or she'd been cooking dinner for both of them. So she had no idea the extent of his culinary abilities. He always helped out with the dishes, but he hadn't actually prepared a meal in front of her.

He looked down at her, "do you mean, can I boil water? Yes, yes Emily, I can boil water," he stated flatly.

For the past decade he'd been living completely on his own. So he could actually make most basic meals and they came out quite edible if he did say so himself.

"Learn that at Jellystone too, did you?" she asked with amusement as they reentered the huge farm kitchen.

His eyebrow rose in surprise, "how did you know?"

She laughingly threw a dishtowel at him, "just get cracking on those hot dogs there Ranger Smith!"

He caught the towel one handed just before it hit his face. Then he winked at her before he dropped it back on the counter.

"Yes, ma'am."

* * *

_A/N 2: If you don't know it, Yogi the Bear was a Hanna Barbera cartoon from the 60s. And Ranger Smith was the one that was always trying to keep Yogi from stealing those picnic baskets :)_

_As to the title, hopefully it wasn't too "yeah, that's kind of random sienna" :) It was just of an image in my mind of turning the little knob and suddenly seeing the world in a completely different way. Which is obviously how the chapter goes. That was the only word I could think of that summed it up._

_Pakiesgirl posed/raised a question about whether or not Emily would have had the abortion in this world. And I figured no, with the change in circumstances (for one thing they were already back home by the time she was 15) and I didn't see her issues with her mom or her self esteem being that severe that she'd be rebelling in such a self destructive way. But then I started thinking about that more (thanks again to the review) and thought that going the opposite way with her might work better here. So in this world, they've been much more high profile, so she's been more isolated and taught to not be trusting of strangers at all. So she's kind of taken that rule to heart, and as a result she's not very experienced around men. As I said to KittyDemon18, I see her as "introverted extrovert". She projects this image of herself, the person she wants to be, but in actuality she's very shy so she talks to fill the silence and keep from getting nervous. I don't see her with self esteem issues, just really lonely with a bit of social anxiety. _

_Also, Hotch/Aaron, I've changed his background enough that I probably won't make him quite as messed up either. Again, as in the other AU, he hasn't gone to the BAU so his world is much lighter. In case you don't know the term, HRT is Hostage Rescue (sort of the FBI version of SWAT) so he hasn't even gotten that far out into the world yet that he would have lost anyone on the job. _

_And if him joking around with her now seems a bit unusual, keep in mind his age (27, 28), and the canon story about him wooing Haley with the Pirates of Penzance. He's now acknowledged to himself that he's attracted to Emily and that would be a bit of the back in the day, more lighthearted Aaron making an appearance. Really, now that he's made an ass out of himself by showing how badly he screwed things up with Haley, there's no reason to go back to the stiff formal interactions. It would be kind of silly. He figures as long as he keeps his hands/lips to himself for the next two weeks then there's no reason that he can't just be normal with her._

_I know I did some POTENTIAL foreshadowing with his panic attack about leaving her alone. Not sure how I'm going to play the whole thing out yet so you'll just have to wait and see. We'll find out together ;)_

_Lastly, but certainly not leastly ;) Chiroho pointed out some excellent points about how far the dollar would have stretched back in early 90s so I'm going to tweak a couple things in chapter 2. But, even more importantly (!) you can thank him for Hotch's whole brown recluse mental meltdown. He made a comment about my Spiderman line and that made ME think of Peter Parker getting bit by the radioactive spider and then the next thing you know, Aaron's diving across the room and freaking out about a nest of imaginary spiders living in their pillows. I thought giving him a little normal freak out neuroses would be refreshing. I figure "grownup" Hotch would have dismissed such a thought as nonsense and just made the bed up. His younger self would kick the pillows down the stairs and whip them out in the rain :)_

_I really might get another one of these up tonight. Though that would probably be at the sacrifice of anything else. I was SO not planning on getting completely sucked into this world with them but I can like see their whole cabin in my head and smell Emily's pie baking and I hate to leave them alone for too long. Somebody could be lurking in the woods ;)_

_Seriously guys, really do appreciate the feedback, as you can see, you can totally influence the course of the story with the most innocuous of remarks. _


	4. Pretty Girls and Roses

**Author's Note:** Good news and bad news folks. The good news is, I got one more for you tonight. The bad news is, I go back to work tomorrow. And I'm fairly sure that they'll be frowning on me continuing on with Emily and Aaron's adventures at the cabin during my paycheck hours. SO, unless I end up whipping up something super short, then I don't think I'll be updating this one again until Tuesday. Have no fear, my brain's still running right along, but again, my time to write just went back to it's generally curtailed hours. Which, you don't have to tell me, sucks. I'd certainly much rather be getting paid to do this tomorrow than what I actually will be doing.

So we're picking up with them after dinner.

* * *

**Pretty Girls and Roses**

After dinner, Aaron sent Emily upstairs to unpack her bag while he did the dishes.

He thought that was the least that he could do for her after she made that delicious smelling strawberry rhubarb pie that was taunting him from the counter. But before she'd left the kitchen she told him it was too hot to eat, and he had to wait at least another half hour before he cut a piece. And the way that she wagged her finger at him as she said it, it was so adorable that he just nodded his assent. He was trying not to burst out laughing.

It wasn't until after she'd left the room, that Aaron remembered that he was the one who was technically 'in charge' and therefore the one that was supposed to be doing the bossing. But . . . he rinsed the sudsy water our of the salad bowl . . . he supposed that if he was planning/hoping on engaging in any kind of personal relationship with her once this was all over, he was going to have to adjust his things. And by thinking he meant, that he'd better get used to occasionally having his power completely usurped. At least that had been his experience with Haley. And he imagined that to be true with most women.

Well . . . he tipped his head . . . to varying degrees anyway.

But all that really mattered for now was that for the duration of this assignment, Emily continued to run, jump, duck and hide immediately when he told her to. As long as she didn't question his authority in that area, then he didn't think her bossing him around the kitchen would really be a problem.

As long as nobody else was around to see it.

After he'd placed the salad bowl on the counter to dry, Aaron turned off the faucet and looked around the airy cooking space.

With the exception of the cooling pastry, everything else had been washed or put away. So he quickly wiped down the counters and then put the refrigerator back to it's original condition. After that, he transferred the contents of the cooler, onto the shelves.

It had been two hours since they arrived, so he figured the fridge would be cold enough now to keep the milk fresh.

Once he'd determined that the kitchen was again looking nice and tidy, he went over and flicked on the small light he'd plugged in by the sink.

The last thing he did as he left the room, was turn off the overhead lighting.

If there was one thing that he was not a fan of, it was a dark room. He knew Emily had thought that he was a little nuts, but before they'd left the city, he'd stopped and bought a small pack of nightlights to plug in around the country house.

As long as they were up here alone, he didn't want anything surprising him in the dark.

With that thought in mind, before he went upstairs to unpack his own bag, Aaron did one more check of the downstairs. After each turn through the rooms, he ran his finger over the window locks . . . the windows weren't bullet resistant, but they did have reinforced glass . . . and then pulled the curtains tightly shut again.

Nobody was seeing, or getting, in there that night.

As he was finishing up his security run, Aaron paused briefly in the small paneled space that he'd determined had been designed as a family office. His lip turned up slightly as he looked over the room. It had a beautiful maple desk in it with a matching book case and a large wooden hutch.

Someday he really would love to have a place like this.

Just as he was about to step back into the hall, a stack on the floor by the filing cabinet caught his eye.

Newspaper clippings.

After pausing to make sure that he didn't hear Emily on the stairs, Aaron stepped back into the room and stooped down to be nosy for a minute.

As he flipped through them he saw that they were mementos . . . all of them yellow and crinkling . . . of the major events in her family's life.

Some were barely a line.

. . . _Robert Prentiss elected to first term as representative from the 5__th__ district._

That one was dated twenty years ago . . . but others were full pages.

The day Emily's mother had been named as the first female Secretary of State was a big one.

He was just about to tidy up the stack again when he saw something that made his eyes widen in surprise. It was the day of the assassination attempt on her mother. They had been in a market in Johannesburg. The picture was black and white and showed the security team dragging the . . . at the time, ambassador . . . away from the body of the agent who had taken the bullet intended for her head.

It was a terrible picture. Her mother was obviously screaming, and even in black and white you could see the dark splatters of blood on her suit. Aaron had of course seen this photograph before, he'd been in high school at the time and it was front page news everywhere.

But what he hadn't noticed then . . . what he was just noticing now . . . was an image in the background.

It was slightly out of focus but as he stared at it he realized it was a little Emily being forcibly thrown into the back of one of the black sedans. Her handler's mouth was open so Aaron knew that he was saying . . . or more likely yelling . . . something at her.

Aaron hadn't realized she was there that day.

And the longer he stared at the image, the more he wondered what the man was saying.

Was he trying to comfort her? Was he screaming at her that they had to go? Or was he lying to her and telling her that everything was fine even though there was a man lying dead in the street not ten feet away?

His jaw twitched as he stared a moment longer. And then he heard the creak of the staircase and he quickly tidied the stack of yellowing papers and hurried back out of the room.

"Hey," he said nonchalantly as Emily appeared before him, "did you finish unpacking?"

She'd changed out of her short/tank top combo and into her candy cane striped pajamas. They seemed to be her favorite pair. A fact deduced because back home he'd noticed her wearing them more often than any others.

"Yep," Emily smiled, "all set," then as she walked closer to him she asked curiously, "hey, how did you know that was my room?"

It hadn't really mattered all that much who got which room, so she hadn't even thought to mention it to him when he said he was bringing the bags upstairs. But given that he'd had five options to choose from, she hadn't really expected that he would just correctly 'guess' where she usually slept.

"I don't know," Aaron's eyes crinkled slightly as he shrugged, "it just seemed like that one was yours."

Wow! He'd actually guessed correctly!

Feeling a little flutter in her stomach, Emily's expression softened slightly.

"When I was twelve I was really into ornithology so I asked my Grampa if we could do a room here that had a little border with starlings on it. Ever since then that's been my room."

Of all the hundreds of things that she'd said to him the past two weeks, she couldn't believe that some part of his brain remembered her telling him that story.

Aaron stared at Emily for a moment, and then he suddenly pictured her in the car the other day telling him that she and her grandfather used to go bird watching when she was younger.

He bit his lip as he took a step closer . . . apparently his brain had tucked that little factoid away and he hadn't realized it until he subconsciously interpreted the border as meaning it was Emily's room.

Huh.

Though he had no good . . . i.e. professional . . . reason for it, he put his arm around her shoulders as he walked them back down to the living room. Without a word, he guided her over to the couch and then turned back to the fireplace.

While dinner was cooking . . . boiling . . . he'd gone around and checked the fireplace flues to make sure they were all clear. Fortunately the family had a whole mud room off the front hall where they kept . . . not only coats and hats and whatnot . . . but also a bin of cut firewood.

And even though it was August, the house was quite cool tonight.

The humidity of the day had been washed away with the line of thunderstorms that continued to roll through. And he could see Emily rubbing her hands together as she sat on the couch watching him.

It was obvious that she was a bit chilly.

And though he hadn't made a fire since he was a Boy Scout . . . just over ten years ago, he'd gone all the way to Eagle . . . he was pretty sure that he remembered how the process went. The principles were pretty straight forward.

Fire + something flammable = heat

So he left Emily alone for a minute to back down to the mudroom. Once there, he'd hefted as much wood as he could carry, up into his arms. It was kind of dirty . . . and some pieces were a smidge sticky with sap . . . but the shirt was going to the cleaners anyway.

After he was loaded up, Aaron headed back down to the living room. Then he walked over to place the kindling into the gigantic mouth of the fireplace. And he did it in the old stack pattern that he remembered learning as a boy.

Sometimes you just didn't forget.

And just as he was about to push himself up to go get some matches from the kitchen, he felt Emily's hand on his shoulder.

He tipped his head back to see her holding the long blue box and an old newspaper. He'd noticed had been left sitting on the coffee table from the last time her family was there.

Though his heart ached when he looked down at the date . . . May 30, 1993.

Such a long time ago.

But he covered his sadness for Emily's sake, making sure to give her a little smile as he took the items from her hand.

"Thanks."

"No problem," Emily whispered back. Then she watched Aaron tear up the old paper into strips, before he began shoving it under the logs.

Her eyes started to sting as she remembered back to her father making her a fire the last time that they were there. Mother had said it was too warm, but Emily had wanted to make s'mores so she'd fluttered her lashes and said "please daddy," before she bit her lip.

It was a move she'd been making on him since she was old enough to know that he was the pushover.

And of course . . . as expected . . . he'd immediately grinned back and said, "okay jellybean." Then he'd turned to her mother, giving her his most charming smile . . . the one they used on the campaign posters . . . and cooed.

"Come on Lizzie, you know you love a good s'more."

Her mother had looked in exasperation between the two of them, before a hint of a smile touched her lips. "Fine," she'd said, "but I want an extra square of chocolate on mine." And then she'd kissed Emily's forehead before heading back into the kitchen to finish dinner.

That . . . the tears began to pool . . . that, was the last night that they were here.

Aaron tossed the match into the pier he'd just built. And as the flame caught on a strip of newspaper . . . immediately spreading to the dry wood . . . he felt a ridiculous sense of satisfaction.

Mankind had been making fire since their brains were the size of baseballs, and yet still he thought it was some kind of an accomplishment.

What a loser.

Then he remembered that he didn't actually 'make' the fire, he just struck the sulfur match against the flint and THAT made the fire.

That realization diminished his sense of pride just a bit more . . . but . . . he heard a little crackle come from the popping wood . . . only just a little.

After he pushed himself up and dusted off his shirt and hands, he turned around to tell Emily that he was going upstairs to change.

But then he stopped short . . . she was crying.

That ache in his heart came back again. And as he bit into his lip, he crossed over to the couch and stooped down to put his hands on her knees.

As Aaron walked over, Emily frantically started wiping her face in embarrassment.

'_Geez, stupid tears!'_

Then he leaned down in front of her and whispered sadly, "I'm really sorry Emily."

And she froze, staring wide eyed at him.

It took a moment for her realize that his apology was genuine, he really did understand. He knew why she was crying.

He knew why she was sad.

Nobody had ever paid her enough attention to see that far past the image she projected to the world. Oh God . . . she sucked in a ragged breath before slapping her hands over her mouth to keep the sob from escaping.

She hadn't meant to do this in front of him! She didn't cry in front of other people!

Prentiss' didn't cry in front of ANYONE!

And if not for that damn newspaper, and remembering making s'mores with her dad, she wouldn't have suddenly felt that horrible sense of loss.

The realization that she really no longer had anyone anymore.

Her parents loved her . . . but they had no time for her. None. They were both always traveling now. The President's focus for the year was hammering out another peace treaty in the Middle East. So her mother spent all of her spare time . . . of which there was precious little . . . meeting with experts on anything and everything related to the culture, history, religion and everything else under the sun that could that might give them an edge in the negotiations. Or possibly cause a problem down the road.

World peace was a noble effort . . . but it left no time for family.

And daddy . . . daddy had a serious challenger to his seat for the first time in over a decade. So he spent half of his time pressing flesh across his district, and the rest of his time wrangling members of the House on the new healthcare initiative.

Again, a noble effort that left no time for family.

When she was young they had always made time for her. But now that she was an adult . . . and they figured she had a life of her own . . . the time they carved out was less and less. But maybe if she told them that she had no life . . . the sob broke free . . . then they'd find a way to let her back into their worlds.

God . . . she sucked in another breath . . . what a loser she was!

It was only took a split second after Emily's pitiable gasp . . . she was trying to cover up a sob . . . that Aaron know for sure what he had to do.

So even though it was as about as far outside the manual as he could get . . . basically he'd just tossed the manual out the window . . . he got up on the couch beside her. Then he shifted slightly to pull her into his arms.

"Shhh, it's okay," he murmured softly against her hair as he rubbed his hand up and down her back.

And feeling her hot tears soaking through his shirt, triggered another ache in his chest. So before he could stop and think about what he was doing . . . if it was colossally bad timing or not . . . he tipped his head down.

"When this assignment's over," he whispered, "would you like to go to dinner with me sometime?"

That was most definitely NOT something that he was going to bring up until things were completely wrapping up. But he couldn't bear her being so sad, and knowing it was because she was so lonely. He just wanted her to know that she wasn't alone.

He could be there . . . even as just a friend . . . if she would only let him in.

Emily lifted her head to look up at Aaron, then she sniffled once before asking warily.

"Are you just asking because you feel sorry for me?" She started to pull away from him as her voice cracked, "because I don't want to be a pity date."

These stupid tears were ruining everything! She really liked him, and she'd thought maybe by the end of the month that he might haven grown to like her too. But now . . . her hand swiped angrily across her face . . . she didn't know if he was asking because he was actually starting to have feelings for her, or because he just thought that she was a pathetic loser.

Most likely the latter.

Seeing how low Emily's self-esteem was at that moment, Aaron's eyes began to sting as he shook his head.

"No, no Emily of course that's not why I'm asking." He gave her a sad smile, "I like you, really I do," then he tipped his head, "okay, granted, I wouldn't have asked you out tonight if not for . . ."

His voice trailed off as she pulled away from him. And as he saw her fold further into herself . . . her cheeks began to burn bright red.

And he realized then that he was humiliating her.

Christ, he'd already fucked up the breakup with Haley, how was it possible that he was screwing up asking Emily out too?

"No, no, no," he moaned in exasperation as he rubbed her arm, "I'm sorry, that came out all wrong."

So when she lifted her watery eyes slightly to look up at him . . . it was obvious that she was waiting for the other shoe to drop . . . he cupped her warm . . . wet . . . cheek with his palm. Then he tried again.

"Emily Prentiss, even though you drive me nuts sometimes, I think that you're smart and sweet and funny and I really, really do like you." His lip quirked up, "and I'm going to slap a 'period, end of sentence' on that statement before I stick my foot in my mouth again."

Seeing how sincere his words were, Emily's embarrassment slowly began being replaced by a cautious hope.

"Really?" She whispered back, "You mean it?"

This was much more than she could have hoped for.

"Yeah," he nodded seriously, "I mean it. You really do drive me nuts sometimes."

As he'd hoped, the joke elicited a small smile from her, and his eyes crinkled slightly before he sobered up again.

"Honestly Emily, I was planning on asking you out in two weeks, when my assignment was over. But then I realized that it was silly to wait to just ask the question."

Then he stroked the pad of his thumb along her cheek, feeling the stickiness of her tears. He had the sudden urge to kiss them away.

That was one urge that he _firmly_ suppressed.

Emily stared at him.

"What about your girlfriend?" She asked with a sniffle as she sat up a little and wiped her face again, "what if when you get home you decide you want to get back together?"

If he raised her spirits, and then broke her heart all in the same month, she wouldn't be able to stand it.

She didn't want to be some rebound girl.

Aaron's eyes fell away from Emily's for a moment as he sighed.

Well, she did deserve to know the truth there. And she deserved to know even if it didn't necessarily reflect well on him.

Which it most definitely did not.

His gaze came back up.

"That is an excellent question. But I can assure you Emily, that there is NO possibility of that happening," he swallowed, hoping that she wouldn't think he was a real jerk by the time he was done explaining himself.

"Though I can see how it might seem like odd timing asking you out the same day that I break up with my longtime girlfriend."

Emily interrupted him then.

"How long were you going out?"

"Six years," he croaked

Seeing her eyes widen in surprise, he nodded quickly.

"I know, but trust me, I should have broken up with Haley, that's her name, Haley, six months ago," he gave her a sad smile, "maybe even longer. We met in college and things were good for a long time, but . . . well, we just grew apart. And then when I decided to leave the DA's office and join the Bureau, and she was so adamantly opposed to that, I started to see that we didn't really see things the same way anymore. But," he cleared his throat, "well, I know this might make me sound like kind of a jerk, but it was just easier to keep playing along like everything was fine. And I know that wasn't fair to her, it was just making things easier for me. But since I've been away," he tipped his head, "since I met you, I realized that I wasn't being fair to myself either. We should both be free to move on with our lives," his voice started to get a little husky, "I just wish I hadn't handled things as badly as I did with her on the phone today. She didn't do anything wrong and I know that I really hurt her."

His gaze dropped down to the candy cane pattern on Emily's knee. Then he added softly.

"But I can see though, how my behavior wouldn't really recommend me as somebody you'd want to get involved with. So I understand if you say no."

Really, what girl would want to go out with some guy knowing that he was potentially going to treat her like crap for no reason?

Feeling that wave of sympathy she'd felt for him earlier come back again, Emily reached over and patted his leg.

"Aaron," she said softly, "I understand that you made a mistake today, and I could see at the time that you really regretted what happened, so I certainly don't think ill of you because of that."

His eyes came back up and she gave him a watery smile.

"And I think that you're a really sweet guy, but," she swallowed, "six years is a _long _time, so maybe you should call her back and talk to her and let her say all the stuff she wants to say. And then," her voice got a little thick, "well, then if you still want to ask me out to dinner then I'll give you my answer, okay?"

Part of her brain was screaming at her that she was a complete idiot for not trying to snatch him up immediately. But the part of her that was afraid of being left alone again, was trying to make sure that he was really serious about this before she got too invested.

Six years was a LONG time to be with someone. And though she didn't know the particulars like he did, it just didn't seem like that kind of relationship would simply get washed away over a three minute phone call.

Aaron's eyes started to burn as he looked over to the crackling fire, and then back to Emily's pretty face. Finally he nodded.

"Okay, if that would make you feel better then I'll do that." But seeing the sad smile she gave him in return . . . though he was agreeing with her suggestion . . . he blinked away the tears as he reached over and brushed her hair back behind her ear. "But I'll tell you now," he whispered, "that it's not going to make any difference."

If he hadn't inadvertently slammed down the phone on Haley, he wouldn't have thought this was necessary. But Emily was right, his (ex) girlfriend deserved to have her say before he nailed the door shut completely on that part of his life.

Not that there was anything that Haley could say that would change his mind, but it was only fair. He shouldn't just get to decide something so momentous and then just walk out of her life without any consequence.

He looked back at the fire . . . and it wasn't fair to Emily to have something like that hanging there either. From her perspective, he could see that she might think that she was just a rebound or something.

Then his eyes widened as he thought of something.

"Wait though, I didn't think there was a phone here," he looked around, "I haven't seen one."

Emily pushed herself up off the couch and put her hand out, "come with me,"

Aaron took her hand and she led him down to the office he'd been in before she came down the stairs. Leaving him in the doorway, she went over to the desk where she stooped down and opened the bottom drawer.

A second later he saw her place an old square rotary desk phone on the blotter.

Then she took the end of the plastic wire and leaned back down, running her fingers along the wall under the bookcase until she hit the jack where she slipped the wire in.

When she stood back up, Emily saw Aaron looking at her curiously and she shrugged, "it's just for emergencies. Mother and daddy always tried to really take a break when we came up here, so they figured with the phone, out of sight out of mind. So they don't give the number out to anyone on their staff either. If there's some sort of genuine emergency where they need to be reached, the agents get radioed so there's no need to keep the phone plugged in at all."

She came back around the desk and patted his arm, "you make your phone call," she gave him a little smile, "and then you come see me when you're done. We'll have some pie and talk again, okay?"

His eyes crinkled slightly, "okay."

He was starting to see that maybe Emily was out of his league. She was six years younger and a hell of a lot smarter and more mature about relationships than he was. He was already asking out the next girl while the old one was sitting home probably crying into her second box of Kleenex.

And she had no way of reaching him and was probably cursing his name every five minutes.

He swallowed . . . yeah, this conversation was going to suck.

But . . . he watched Emily slip out and shut the door behind her . . . it needed to be done.

So he went over and pulled out the chair, sat down and dialed the number.

A few seconds later Haley's answering machine picked up and he didn't get further than, "um, it's me again. I'm sorry I uh . . ." before he heard the phone being snatched up and then her screaming.

"YOU **BASTARD!**! I CAN'T BELIEVE YOU HUNG UP ON ME!"

And his head dropped to the desk.

Crap.

/*/*/*/*/*/

Emily sat in the kitchen nervously blowing on her cup of cocoa. He'd been in there an awfully long time. Her eyes snapped back over to the kitchen clock . . . almost forty five minutes. How long does it take to do something like this? She had no idea, she'd never really been in a real relationship. She'd only been out on casual public setting dates.

And those were few and very far between.

There was only that one boy that she'd ever seen more than twice. Patrick something.

But she didn't like him. At first he'd seemed nice, and he hadn't even let on that he knew who her family was. Not until the third date anyway. Then he seemed ENTIRELY too interested in who her family was.

It had given her the creeps. Not enough to actually report it to her mother's staff, just enough that she hadn't wanted to see him again.

And that was about the last time she'd even tried to have a social life. And three dates didn't really count as a "breakup." But still, she'd been smart enough to know that Aaron needed to deal with this Haley girl before he considered anything else.

Though she was seriously going to be kicking herself for the next thirty years if she just pushed them back together again!

Just then she heard the office door open and she looked up anxiously to see him practically stumbling into the kitchen.

Her eyes widened in alarm . . . he looked like he'd been hit by a bus!

His tie was hanging off of him, his hair was all sticking up in front, and the first three buttons of his shirt were undone.

"Jesus Christ!" he exclaimed as he flopped down in the stool next to her, "that SUCKED!"

It was horrendous! Worse than he'd possibly imagined. Not only was he a complete bastard and an asshole and all sorts of other choice words that he didn't even know that nice girls like Haley knew, but apparently he'd wasted her most fertile years! Like he was supposed to know that she was looking to have kids! She'd never mentioned wanting kids, and he wasn't a freaking mind reader! Maybe if she'd mentioned that two or three years ago then he would have started 'assessing' things a bit earlier.

But at least now . . . he scrubbed his hands down his face . . . it was done.

Emily bit her lip in sympathy as she reached over to rub his back, "didn't go well?"

He shot her a look out of the corner of her eye and her nose wrinkled, "sorry, dumb question."

And though she could sort of deduce that they still were broken up, she definitely didn't want to ask the outcome of their conversation.

Just in case it _wasn't_ favorable to her cause.

So she started to stand up, "well, um, let me go get your pie."

Aaron caught her hand as she tried to walk away, "wait, don't you want to know what happened?"

He'd have thought that she might have some sort of vested interest in what happened on the phone.

Her eyes slowly shifted over to his, "well, if you think that I might be interested in the outcome then yes, I suppose I might like to know," she said softly.

His eyes crinkled, "I think you might be interested in the outcome yes. I am most definitely STILL broken up with my EX girlfriend."

Her face lit up, "really?"

That meant she _wasn't_ the biggest idiot on the planet! Yay!

He nodded in amusement, "yes, really," he sobered slightly as he thought back on the end of the conversation, "uh, she's going to come over Wednesday and pick up her stuff and we'll do the key thing in reverse," he gave Emily an ironic look, "she's still pretty mad so if I don't come back Wednesday night maybe you could call the police and tell them to start dragging the Potomac."

Emily bit her lip to keep from smiling, "understood,"

Then she was quiet for a minute before she sighed dramatically. Now she knew that invitation to go out was technically still hanging there, _but_ she really wished that he would ask her again.

It would be nice to hear it when she wasn't sobbing into his shirt.

Hearing the little sigh escape Emily's lips, Aaron's mouth quivered as he spun his stool around to face her head on . . . apparently she was waiting for the second invitation.

And he was very happy to oblige.

Given what he had to look forward to with Haley on Wednesday, it really would be nice to have something more pleasant to look forward to after that.

So he reached over and picked up Emily's hands. "Emily Prentiss, would you like to have dinner with me on August 17th?"

That was the evening her parents were expected back in town.

His assignment would be done.

She grinned, "I would."

And one of his dimples slipped out, "okay then, good."

Thank God! After all, she was proving herself to be much smarter about these things than he was. She could have decided that he needed like a cooling off period or something too.

He huffed to himself . . . Christ, it was just four hours ago that he had decided to ask her out. By the time this weekend was over he was probably going to be begging her for five minutes of her time!

Emily stared at him for a moment before asking somewhat shyly. "I know that things have to stay . . . platonic for two more weeks but, um, could I give you a hug? Just a quick one?"

This was kind of a big day for her. She'd never been asked out by anyone like him before. Somebody nice and sweet . . . pre background check cleared . . . who she thought maybe she could actually have a real relationship with, and not just a single cup of bad coffee at one of those new weird chain places.

Aaron looked at Emily for a second longer before his lip quirked up.

"I suppose one hug wouldn't hurt,"

Feeling a wave of ridiculous happiness fill her, Emily grinned as she stepped between his legs and wrapped her arms around his neck. And as he pulled her tightly against his body, she closed her eyes and sighed. "Thanks."

A hug.

She hadn't had a good hug in years.

Aaron's lips twitched as he rubbed his hand down Emily's back.

"No problem," he whispered.

A pretty girl asks if she can give him a hug and _then_ she thanks him for saying yes. He was definitely in some sort of alternate universe right now.

And as he closed his eyes for a moment, he made a mental record of what it felt like to hold her.

The soft skin of her cheek pressed against his, the feel of her slim frame completely enveloped in his arms, and her hair . . . he inhaled . . . roses.

He murmured against her throat.

"The roses, is that your perfume or your shampoo?"

Emily's lips curved into a soft smile.

"Both," she murmured as she lay her head down on his shoulder, "I like roses."

"Yeah," he whispered back, "me too."

If he became any more fond of the roses then he was thinking that he might have to have himself taken off this assignment for the last two weeks of the month.

Right now he trusted that he could still do his job effectively. But . . . his eyes fell shut again as he felt her warm breath on his neck . . . he was definitely becoming more emotionally involved with her. At the moment that was probably enhancing his senses, his protective instincts were making him _more_ aware of potential threats around them. But there was a certain point where the scale would tip, and then his feelings would become a distraction.

And distractions were bad.

Now though . . . he slowly exhaled . . . they were still good.

And he was still kind of hungry.

So he tipped his head down to whisper in her ear.

"Can I have my pie now?"

Emily started to giggle against his throat, "_yes_, you can have your pie now!"

She lifted her head and stepped back with a little smile.

"Do you want some cocoa too? The water's still hot."

Aaron smiled, "cocoa sounds fabulous," he pushed himself up off the stool, "I'm just going to run upstairs and change. How about we watch a movie when I come back down?"

Her eyebrow shot up, "can we watching something girly?" she asked hopefully.

The last two weeks, whenever he sat with her she tried to pick out movies that he would like too.

He nodded, "of course. We can watch whatever you want."

She grinned.

"Then Hunt for Red October it is!"

It took him a second to process what she said before he burst out laughing, "that's not a GIRLY movie! That's an ACTION movie!"

What the hell was she talking about?

"Are you kidding me?" she asked in disbelief, "Alec Baldwin AND Sean Connery, that's a chick flick in my book buddy."

As he started to chuckle, she pushed him towards the door.

"Go hurry up and change. Now you've got me all excited and I'm not pressing pause for you."

He snoozed he loosed.

"I'm going, I'm going," he huffed in mock exasperation as she gave him a gentle shove into the hall, "geez I really hope you're not going to _manhandle_ me like this when we're DATING!" he yelled back over his shoulder.

It was really kind of funny. She was like a hundred pounds soaking wet and she'd been bossing him around pretty effectively all evening.

"You know you love it!" she yelled back from the kitchen.

Hearing him bark a laugh from the staircase, Emily grinned to herself as she went over to cut their slices of pie.

This was shaping up to be her best weekend ever.

* * *

_A/N 2: There you go Chiroho, we got the real hug in buddy AND he asked her out! You were two for two :)_

_Seriously though, I didn't see any 'good' reason why he couldn't at least throw it out there. He knew why she was so sad and it really would have just been kind of inexplicable for him NOT to say something to her then._

_Yes, Emily was taking a shot at Starbucks :) I know we're all used to them now, but it was very strange when they first started coming east. We have Dunkin Donuts here and back then they just served plain coffee and plain donuts. Starbucks and all their "choices" was just this weird thing that we had to get used to. _

_There was a request (or 2) to see the scene where Haley hands Hotch his hat for being a jerk on the phone. And I don't really think the story will take them to "Wednesday" (it would have been an epilogue slice) so I figured a little snippet from the phone conversation would do. Putting yourself in Haley's shoes, your boyfriend of six years breaks up with you on a payphone and then hangs up on you before you even get to say a word, she deserved to be pissed. _

_And I liked the idea of Emily being more mature about his breakup than he was. Again, they're still (both) pretty inexperienced with relationships, her more so obviously, but I still think (no offense Chiroho) that sometimes women just have a more innate understanding of how things should work. A bit more sensitivity. And he really did need to deal with Haley completely and maturely before he moved on to the next thing. _

_As to Emily being there the day of the assassination attempt, that wasn't my original plan. But I apparently wrote that little snippet in the beginning a bit ambiguously (it wasn't Emily that was the target, it was her mom) so as I read it over, I didn't see anything in what I wrote that precluded the idea that Emily was there too. And I thought that would fall into line with a number of other things I'm writing about her. _

_I actually got a little depressed writing the Emily flashback to her last trip to the cabin scene. Because, if you're younger you might not realize but all the stuff I had her parents working on, I wasn't just mimicking what's going on in the world today. Those EXACT issues were the main topics of the day in the early 90s. We had troops in the Middle East, we were working on healthcare reform, and a bunch of people were trying to hammer out a peace agreement for the same swaths of land. It's kind of sad that as much as the world's changed, it really hasn't. _

_Anyway, I think it's universally agreed, real life is quite depressing at times, that's why we're all here! I've actually typed so much this weekend that my fingers are swollen! I don't even know what the hell to do for that! Am I supposed to ice them or what? I guess it's good I'm going back to work. Well, okay, not really :)_

_Again, MAYBE something short here tomorrow (if my hands work!) but otherwise, back on Tuesday._

_Thanks again for all the kind notes! I'm SO glad you guys like this one! Seriously that makes me happy because it does seem to be "cleansing the palate" of some of the nastier stuff going in canon. They really are kind of sweet as more innocent versions of themselves and I'm going to be really sad when I have to shut the door on them here :( Maybe I'll make it a little alternate series. Feel free to throw out some ideas for future stuff for them. Future as in past the weekend :)_


	5. Necessary Conversations

**Author's Note:** I stayed up twenty minutes past the point where I should have gone to bed just to get this up. Apparently I'll be drinking an extra coffee tomorrow.

Side Note: Chiroho had some FABULOUS suggestions on other things to cover in their budding relationship! You can see them on his chapter 4 review but I am going to try to hit all of them :) And yes, keep them coming ;) Girl's going to be wrapping soon and I'll have to move into the cancer story so I'll need something "nice" ongoing to work on on the side.

* * *

**Necessary Conversations**

As the credits began to roll on the movie, Aaron looked over to the other end of the couch to see Emily had fallen asleep.

His eyes crinkled . . . she had a little bit of drool on her face.

He leaned over and squeezed her foot.

"Emily," he whispered, "wake up," he heard an unintelligible murmur in response as she curled herself up into a smaller ball and rolled over.

Okay . . . his lip quirked up as he pushed himself off the couch . . . we'll deal with that in a second.

First things first.

He went over and turned off the tape and the television. Then he pushed the embers around in the fireplace to make sure the fire was dead.

It was mostly just red coals left. But on the off chance that there was something left to burn, he moved the screen back to make sure that nothing popped and flew onto the rug.

After that was done, for the fifth time that night he checked the alarm and the locks on the doors and windows.

That horrible panicked feeling he'd had earlier had faded. But that experience had rattled him enough that there was a residual tickle in his brain that was forcing him to be overly cautious about their surroundings.

And given his line of work, being overly cautious was never a bad thing.

When he came back into the living room a few minutes later he saw that Emily was still sound asleep. He didn't want to startle her, so his voice was soft as he stooped down and rubbed her shoulder.

"Emily it's time to go to bed."

But still there was nothing but the murmur.

"Mmm . . . tired . . . hmm . . . up."

But this time . . . he huffed to himself . . . he understood a little bit of what she was saying.

Though he wasn't an expert on sleep murmuring, he was pretty sure that translated as, "I'm tired and I don't want to get up."

"Okay pretty girl," he whispered as he wiped his thumb along the corner of her mouth, "you don't have to get up.

He stooped down, slipping his arms under her body and pulling her to his chest. Once she was settled, he pushed himself up and started for the stairs.

Just before he got to the top, Emily's eyes opened for a second. But he could see that they weren't focused and all she did was close them again and turn to sigh into his chest.

That was enough for Aaron to stop at the landing and look down at her snuggled against him.

Two weeks suddenly seemed like a very long time.

With a dejected sigh, he pulled her a little closer and continued down the hall to her room.

Fortunately when he remade the bed earlier, he'd left the blankets pulled back. So when he got to the bed he just yanked the covers the rest of the way before he gently placed Emily on the mattress. She murmured something again as he tucked her in.

But that time he couldn't understand her.

Still though, he stood there for a moment looking at her. She looked so sweet and innocent when she was sleeping that before he could stop himself, he'd leaned down and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

As he pulled back he told himself it was completely innocent, and totally platonic.

And then he told himself that was crap.

He shook his head as he turned off the lamp by her bed and stepped back. Then he turned and walked out into the hall.

For a second he debated shutting her door . . . he let her keep it shut at home . . . but then he decided that on the off chance that there was a problem, that he'd be able to hear her better with the door open.

Just before he turned to go into his own room he looked back at her illuminated by just the little nightlight in her room. He sighed again.

Two weeks.

/*/*/*/*/

Emily's eyes popped open and she stared at the ceiling for a moment.

_Where the hell . . . ?_

And then she spotted the starlings and she remembered she was at her grandparents. But what had woke her up?

Then there was another momentous crack of thunder and the room instantly lit up from the lightning outside the window.

The storm . . . she jumped . . . it was howling.

She lay there for a moment trying to get her breathing under control.

It's just a storm Emily . . . she chanted over and over to herself . . . it's just a storm. Nothing to be afraid of.

Then there was another huge crash of thunder and the rain began to pelt the window.

"Crap," she muttered as she leapt up out of her bed. Her feet barely hit the ground before she'd run out, around the corner and into Aaron's room.

It was obvious that he was still sound asleep.

"Aaron," she whispered anxiously from the doorway, but still he didn't stir. Apparently thunderstorms didn't register as events important enough to be worthy of disturbing his sleep.

Crap.

Her lower lip popped out . . . she wanted him to be awake TOO! But she wanted him to be awake on his own. She didn't want to wake him up for a something as silly as a thunderstorm.

That was . . . childish.

Then the thunder crashed again, simultaneously filling his room with light as she jumped a foot in the air.

He only rolled over.

Okay . . . she stood there shaking . . . this was ridiculous. She couldn't stand in his doorway all night.

That would be creepy.

Though she did feel better in his room than she did alone in hers, but she also knew that she would feel better still if he would just OPEN HIS EYES!

She bit her lip for a second debating about whether or not he would be mad if she woke him up.

Probably not.

So even though she felt stupid doing it, she crossed over and knelt down next to his bed. Then she whispered again as she touched his shoulder, "Aaron."

His eyes popped open immediately, "what's the matter?" his voice was scratchy as he pushed himself up, "why are you . . ."

And then suddenly the thunder crashed again and he knew why she was awake. He refocused and looked down at her pale face illuminated by the flash of lightning through the window.

"I'm really sorry to wake you up," she whispered, "I just . . . I couldn't stay in my room, and it was creepy watching you sleep from the doorway."

Crawling in next to him would have been nice, but not really an option.

His expression softened . . . the poor thing.

"It's okay," he said softly as he pushed back the blankets, "you can wake me up anytime you need me."

He swung his feet onto the floor, then he grabbed his gun off the nightstand before he took her hand with his free one, "come on," he squeezed her fingers as he walked her back around the corner to her own room.

"But Aaron," she protested sadly as they turned the corner, "I don't want to stay here by myself, and I can't go back to sleep."

Why was he bringing her back here?

He didn't answer, he just brought her over to her bed. Then he went over and pulled the curtains open before he joined her sitting on the mattress.

She felt him fumbling for her fingers before he whispered, "see how beautiful it is?

The droplets of water were running down the glass and the lightning was making jagged white streaks across the purple sky.

It was gorgeous.

He loved lightning . . . his eyes shifted over to look at her . . . maybe he could help her to grow to love it too.

Emily stared for a moment, trying to see what he saw. Finally there was a splash of light and the double Zs appeared in the blackness.

She nodded slowly, "okay, maybe. But . . ."

The thunder cracked again, and her fingernails gouged into his hand, "that's my problem," she moaned.

Wincing slightly from the dig into his palm, Hotch nodded, "okay," then he turned to her, "is it all loud noises that bother you, or just the thunder?"

It wasn't just a general curiosity question, he also thought that maybe there was a reason behind her . . . . denied . . . phobia.

She bit her lip, "well, I don't really like fireworks either, so I guess it is all loud noises."

He was quiet for a minute before he asked quietly, "since Johannesburg?"

Gunshots were loud noises too. And there were a lot of gunshots that day.

Emily swallowed, "uh yeah, I guess that sounds about right."

That's why she didn't call it a phobia. To her mind, whether it was accurate or not, phobias were irrational, unexplained things.

She knew why she didn't like thunder. And she also knew that this was something that she'd never discussed with anyone before.

Maybe talking about it would help.

While pulling his leg up under him, Aaron turned to her.

"Do you have flashbacks?" He asked with concern.

That must have been horrendous for her. It would be horrendous for anyone, but she was just a kid.

Children should be exempt from those kinds of horrors.

Feeling her eyes beginning to burn, Emily dropped her gaze down to the floor.

"Um, nightmares sometimes, but less as I get older. But," she turned to him, "if you mean does the noise make me relive that moment, no. No, that's not it. It just," she bit her lip, trying to think of a way to explain it, "it's like it rubs my nerves raw. The louder the noise," she jumped as the thunder cracked again, "the worse it is. Like downstairs it wasn't so bad because the storm wasn't so bad. But this," she pouted sadly, "this sucks."

"Okay," he chewed on his lip for a second, "well, how about another movie? Maybe that will distract you."

The storm couldn't last that much longer. They'd had rumbling on and off all evening but this was the worst of it. It had to blow out soon.

"Maybe," she looked back at him sheepishly, "I'm sorry to be such a bother. I know thunderstorm counseling probably wasn't covered at the Academy as one of your standard duties."

His brow went up in surprise.

"Are you kidding me? I ACED thunderstorm counseling," he put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her up.

Just like earlier in the night, joking seemed the best course of action. He wasn't going to let her feel embarrassed about something she had no control over.

Her lips twitched as they walked out.

"Is that a fact? You study anything else good that I might be interested in?"

This side of him . . . the funny part . . . was just the cherry on top of what she'd already discovered was a real catch.

She tipped her head onto his shoulder . . . she really couldn't believe that he wanted to go out with her.

"Well," he made a show of thinking as they walked down the staircase, "of course there was that black ops program. Arachnid assassinations," he shifted his gaze down and shot her a look, "there was a spider in your room. He's dead now so you can see that my training hasn't left me."

Her mouth twitched, "wow, you really are quite the American hero, huh?"

They stepped off the riser and into the living room as he stated nonchalantly, "well, I don't like to brag."

Her eyebrow went up in amusement, "yeah, I can see why."

He shot her a mock scowl as he went over to the shelf where she'd lined up her tapes earlier in the evening.

"So what do you want to watch?" he called back over his shoulder.

"Um," she plopped down on the couch, "your choice. I picked earlier."

Though she knew he liked the movie she'd chosen, she didn't want to be bossy.

Aaron stared at the selections she'd brought with them, finally pulling one out, slipping it from its sleeve and into the machine.

As he walked over to join Emily on the couch she looked up at him curiously, "what did you pick?"

But before he could answer the music came on and she grinned, "I didn't know you liked this movie."

National Lampoon's Vacation. It wouldn't have been one she'd have picked for him.

He shrugged, "what can I say? I'm a man of many interests."

Though he did actually like the film, he'd picked it for her. He'd seen her watching it at least three or four times since she'd moved into her parents. Often just on low while she was reading or doing a crossword.

As far as he could tell, it was like comfort food to her.

So . . . he dropped down next to her on the couch . . . that seemed to be the best pick to make her feel better at two in the morning.

Of course it wasn't a magical potion though.

A half hour later, as they sat on the couch, shoulder to shoulder, he could feel the tension in her body even as she laughed at the film.

Hmmm . . . he chewed his lip as he mused to himself . . . _how_ bad an idea was the bad idea that he was having right now?

Probably very. But as he looked up at the grandfather clock in the corner of the room he could see that they were going to be in for a very long night if he didn't find some way to soothe her tension.

A few choice images instantly popped into his brain, but he shoved them aside with an audible huff.

_SO not the time for fantasies Aaron!_

"Did you say something?" Emily asked out of the corner of her mouth.

"What?" he coughed nervously, "uh, no. Though I was just thinking that it was a bit chilly in here, so maybe I'd get the fire going again."

A warm room should relax her. And hopefully make her sleepy again.

She gave him a little smile, "that would be nice. Thanks."

It was chilly. But it had also seemed like a bit of an imposition to ask him to make her another fire in the middle of the night.

She had already dragged the poor man out of bed.

But . . . she watched him head back down to the mudroom . . . as long as he offered.

Aaron lugged another stack of cord back down to the living room and stacked it in the fireplace as he had earlier in the night. Fortunately the embers were still hot so just a little bit of paper and some poking got everything roaring again.

As he stepped back, the heat from the fire warmed his face and his eyes crinkled.

Despite the circumstances, this was a really nice a weekend.

He turned back around to look at Emily curled up on the couch. She'd pulled a quilt over her legs and she was looking up at him with a curious smile.

"What?"

It was almost three am and he looked . . . happy. That was a little unexpected.

Most men would be a bit . . . more likely VERY . . . put out at being up at this hour just because of her stupid little thunderstorm NOTphobia.

"Nothing," he shook his head as he went over and sat down next to her again, "nothing at all," he took a breath and then turned to her, "are you tired?"

He was a little tired but he'd learned to live on very little sleep. So if she wanted to stay up all night he'd be fine. Though, he would prefer that she _didn't_ stay up all night.

She needed her rest.

Emily nodded, "yeah, kind of, but . . ." she frowned, "I don't want to go back to bed yet. It's still kind of . . . "

And then nature provided the window rattling emphasis she was looking for and she sighed, "as long as it's doing that I won't be able to sleep."

He gave her a sympathetic smile, "I wasn't going to send you back to bed Emily. I just was wondering if you wanted to lie down on the couch? Maybe rest a little bit."

It would be more comfortable than cramming herself into a little ball in the corner.

Her eyes widened, "umm . . . umm . . ."

For a second she hedged. She did want to lie down, but if she stretched out then he was going to have to move to the wing chair.

And she didn't want him that far away.

His eyes crinkled at her stammer, "wow, that linguistics minor has really been money well spent."

It wasn't a _hard_ question so he figured that she _did_ want to lie down, but for some reason she just didn't want to say it.

She rolled her eyes, "funny man," and she was just about to add that "no, she was fine," when he slid down, grabbed the throw pillow from the end of the couch and placed it in his lap.

Then he patted it as he said soothingly, "come on and put your head down. You can't keep falling asleep sitting up. You're going to have a stiff neck tomorrow."

This was the plan that he had decided was somewhere between a 'bad idea' and a 'VERY bad idea,' but he still decided to just go with it.

Because it was true.

She was going to have a stiff neck tomorrow if she kept falling asleep sitting up on the couch. And then she'd be in pain and that was going to ruin the rest of her weekend. And he had decided that he was going to do his best to make sure she had another happy memory to take away from this place. And that meant that she should lie down and rest.

Hopefully the thunder would continue to fade and the warmth of the fire would put her to sleep.

That was the rest of the plan.

Emily bit her lip as she stared at him for a moment. And then she said softly, "okay," and she shifted around, sliding down the cushions and putting her head on the pillow.

As she felt him fix the quilt around her shoulders, and then brush his fingers through her hair, Emily felt a tingle in her stomach.

She'd never been alone with a man before. Not like this.

And certainly not with anybody she was attracted to.

These were new feelings.

But . . . her eyes crinkled . . . they were really nice feelings too.

She trusted him implicitly, so she knew that even if they weren't in a holding pattern because of the assignment, that he still wouldn't be pressuring her to do anything right now that she didn't want to do.

And then she realized that it was probably good that they had this little two week waiting period. She could kind of ease into her first grown up . . . she swallowed . . . sexual, relationship.

At some point she was probably going to have to mention to him that she'd never had sex before. And as she lay there for a minute longer, feeling his fingers gently running through her hair, she decided . . . no time like the present.

So she rolled over and looked up at him, "I've never had a real boyfriend before."

His eyebrow went up slightly, "never?"

Though he'd figured out on his own that she hadn't exactly been a social butterfly, he still was a little surprised at that rather random pronouncement.

And then he noticed the look she was giving him as she slowly shook her head.

A little bit embarrassed . . . a little bit nervous.

His brow wrinkled slightly . . . why was she nervous?

_Never had a real boyfriend_ . . . the phrase rolled around in his head . . . _never had a . . ._

And then suddenly his eyes widened.

Oh.

He immediately pulled his hand back and looked down worriedly, "I'm sorry, am I making you nervous?"

God! She's a virgin and he just lit a roaring fire and told her to put her head in his LAP!

His stomach flipped . . . he was starting to feel very much like Chester the Molester.

Emily's cheeks started to get a little warm as she quickly shook her head, "no, no not at all. I just thought . . . well," her eyes shifted away from his as she cleared her throat, "that maybe you should know that before we went out."

This was a very embarrassing conversation. But she figured it was better to have it now and get it out of the way. It would be way more awkward if two weeks from now they had a nice dinner and he brought her home and she had to put the brakes on something then.

After all, at that point they'd have known each other for a month.

And though she was obviously no expert, a month sort of seemed like a point where sex might be kind of expected.

But . . . she bit her lip as she stared at the fire . . . she didn't know if she'd be ready, and she didn't want to disappoint him.

Aaron looked down at her for a moment, seeing the embarrassment on her face as she stared at the fire. And his own feelings of discomfort started to fade as he began to have an inkling of what her concern was.

With the tips of his fingers he gently turned her head back until she was facing him. And then he whispered, "Emily, I would never pressure you to do something that you weren't comfortable doing. So if you're worried that dating automatically means that I expect that we'll be having sex, it doesn't," his eyes crinkled slightly, "I'm sure that there's more than just the one dinner in our future. And we'll wait until we get to the dinner where _you're_ comfortable moving things to the next step."

As he saw her eyes start to water he ran his finger along her cheek, "but maybe we'll never get to that dinner. And that's okay too," he gave her a firm look, "don't ever let any man tell you that have to do something that you don't want to do. If he really likes you then he'll stay with you no matter what, okay?"

He'd of course known plenty of men that dumped a woman if she didn't put out by the third date. Those guys were usually jerks. And Emily deserved better than somebody like that.

If things didn't work out with them, he just wanted to make sure that she was confident enough to know that there was nothing wrong with waiting until SHE was ready.

His expression softened as he reached over and caught the stray tear that trickled down her cheek. When she gave him a watery smile, he felt a dimple slide out and he leaned down to pull her up into an awkwardly angled hug.

Emily twisted herself so she could wrap her arms around his neck and then she whispered, "thank you."

This man was definitely going to be her first. She was sure of it.

They just had to get to that right dinner.

She slowly untangled her arms from his neck and leaned back, shifting her body around so she could look at him. Then she gently patted his cheek, "you don't have to wait forever. Just a little while."

He smiled, "it's okay," he winked at her, "I'll live."

Her lips twitched, "I hope so. It's taken me twenty-two years to find a good prospect. It would kind of suck if you dropped dead."

He burst out laughing and pulled her back into his arms, "oh Emily," he chuckled into her hair, "you do make me laugh."

Nobody had ever made him laugh as much as she did. More than once over these past couple weeks he'd had to bite down on his lip to keep from cracking up at some ridiculous thing that came out of her mouth.

Once he'd even drawn blood!

Haley could be amusing, but she wasn't particularly . . . funny. But of course he'd never really considered a good sense of humor to be a major attribute that he was looking for in a girlfriend.

He leaned back and smiled at her . . . in the light of new acquaintances he was definitely reprioritizing his list.

Emily reached up and traced the outline of his dimple, then she gave him a shy smile, "will you lie down on the couch with me?"

If he was going to stay up with her, he should rest too.

He started to shake his head, "I don't think . . ."

But then he saw her face fall and he stopped to really consider her request, his eyes shifting over to his Glock sitting on the coffee table. He reached over, checked the safety, and slid it between the cushion and the end of the couch. Then he looked back at her, his eyes crinkling slightly as he nodded, "yeah, yeah I can do that."

Given the topic of the conversation they'd just had, apparently they were going to be 'easing into' this other phase of their relationship. And her getting used to sharing space with him was probably a good thing.

His real concern was again, that his feelings for her would be a distraction.

But . . . he lay down and she curled up in front of him . . . then he realized that there wasn't really a safer place for her to be.

His hand started to slide around her waist, but then he stopped and whispered, "is this okay?"

This was her idea, but still . . . he didn't want to inadvertently do anything that would make her uneasy. Given his lengthy relationship with Haley, he was obviously used to a certain amount of liberty when it came to where he could place his hands on a woman's body when he was lying down with her.

And his liberties might a bit more _liberated_ than what Emily was used to.

She nodded, "uh, huh," then she smiled at him over her shoulder, "thanks for asking though."

He nodded seriously, "you tell me right away if I do something that you're not okay with yet," his lip quirked up, "I'm used to stuff that you're not used to."

Her eyes crinkled, "okay," and then she turned back around and he pulled the quilt over her shoulders.

It was going to be a bit of an adjustment for him, going REALLY slow. But he figured six years of regular sex was a good run for a guy his age. Hell, half the guys he knew from his Academy class were out every weekend trying desperately to pick up women.

And they'd been doing that for a decade.

So if he was going to have to take some cold showers for awhile . . . his arm loosely slipped around her waist and he inhaled the scent of fading roses . . . he'd deal.

* * *

_A/N 2: As I said in my last A/N, I thought it would be interesting in this world to make Emily's experiences kind of the opposite of what they have been portrayed in canon. And again, with her being more self assured, I saw her as a version of herself that wouldn't feel the need to have sex just to get it over with, or to make somebody like her. And because she hadn't been able to find anyone that she'd really connected with yet, she was okay with waiting until she did. I know it's kind of an old fashioned approach that you might not expect from what we know from the show, but again this is AU ;) and I thought it worked for them here. And if you're familiar with my stuff then you know I like to go unconventional :) __And it kind of adds another layer to their budding relationship. __Also, keep in mind this is almost 20 yrs ago. Certainly people were HAVING sex :) but the culture wasn't quite so sexualized. Paris Hilton was probably still just lifting her skirt over her head in kindergarten! (yes, my obligatory shot at Paris Hilton, it's almost as ubiquitous as my descriptions of Emily's pajamas!)  
_

_Overall though, I thought making her more inexperienced, though wiser than him in other ways, kind of evened them out. I just think they're really sweet together here :) I'm definitely for the foreseeable future pretending like canon doesn't exist at ALL!  
_

_The thunder/loud noises thing, I thought that worked here with the history of the assassination attempt. Chiroho guessed that might have something to do with her gun phobia - thumbs up :) - but I'm not sure if anyone made the connection with her thunder phobia. Kudos if you did :) I can tell you, that I am foreshadowing all over the damn place right now! So if you ever randomly have a thought pop into you head about where you think I'm going with something that seems sort of random, feel free to share. This is one story that keeps spinning out so I do have a clear direction for where I'm going and I'm always interested to see if anybody else's brain takes the twisty turns that mine does :)  
_

_I thinking we'll pick up the next morning and do breakfast and maybe take them shooting. And you might get your shirtless Hotch scene. I sort of have an idea to "organically" work that in :)_

_Clearly this is going beyond the four or 5 chapters (we're on 5 now – I guess I could technically stop here but it would REALLY be a cheat!) I thought it would be but the whole story won't cover a period of time past the weekend and we're moving to Saturday now, so it'll keep chugging along pretty quickly. Maybe ten chapters? I'd really like to get it wrapped this week so my brain will let go of this world for a bit and I can focus on other stuff again :) Right now this time at the cabin is like a continuous movie running in my head and it doesn't stop until I get each scene down on the page. So the faster I get to the end of the reel the faster this will get up :)_

_Again, thanks for all the lovely comments :) I don't think I got back to anyone today but I had a hellish commute home so I lost some time this evening and didn't have a chance to write AND respond. I thought you'd rather I put the chapter up first and wrote back to you tomorrow ;)  
_


	6. Falling Into Place

**Author's Note:** Next morning in their world.

* * *

**Falling Into Place**

Emily woke up the next morning with an unfamiliar sensation.

Another body pressed against hers.

But she immediately remembered whose body it was . . . Aaron . . . and she smiled as her hand moved up to squeeze the fingers she could feel loosely grasping her waist.

A second later she heard his voice . . . sounding deliciously husky.

"Good morning," Aaron yawned into his shoulder before absentmindedly patting Emily's stomach. "Did you sleep well?"

Given they were jammed on the couch, he'd slept unbelievably well. It was a little strange, quote unquote, "sleeping with" another woman though.

But not as much as he would have thought.

And that was yet another indication that things with Haley had petered out ages ago. Part of him felt a little guilty about moving on so quickly, but he didn't want to get bogged down in negative emotions.

It had been awhile since he'd been happy in a relationship, and he was looking forward to that experience again. And though this wasn't quite yet a 'relationship/relationship' . . . he was pretty sure it would become one very quickly.

After all, they were spending almost twenty-four hours a day together for an entire month. It was about day three of his assignment that he'd become consciously "aware" of his attraction to her. So working out the math equivalency . . . by the time they moved back into their own homes . . . they'd likely know as much about each other as most people would after two months of 'regular' dating.

And two months was _definitely_ a relationship.

Emily was quiet for a minute before she rolled over to look at Aaron.

"Yeah," she gave him a little smile, "I did. Thanks for getting up with me last night," she paused before she added softly, "and thanks for the other stuff too."

Really, he'd been _amazing_ about everything. That could have been so awkward and he made everything okay.

He really was an incredibly good guy.

Aaron brushed her hair off her cheek as he responded quietly. "No thanks necessary," he gave her a knowing look, "for anything. And I told you, if you ever need to wake me up for something, don't feel guilty. For two more weeks it's my job to look after you. And then," his lip quirked up, "it will be my privilege to look after you. So either way," he winked, "you're good."

She brushed the tips of her fingers along the stubble of his cheek as she gave him a soft smile.

Apparently she'd built up some seriously good karma over the years if this who she was probably getting for her first real boyfriend.

That thought came to her . . . and then he kissed the back of her hand. She grinned.

_Yep, major karmic frequent flyer miles here!_

And as nice as it would be to stay snuggled on the couch with him, she desperately needed to pee. That's why she'd woken up after all.

Not to mention she really needed to brush her teeth too . . . she pushed herself back from him . . . after all, it would be nice if she didn't scare him off with her breath before she'd ever had a chance to kiss him!

Aaron watched with real regret as Emily suddenly pushed herself over and off the couch.

_Wait! Where was she going?!_

Though the question was immediately on the tip of his tongue, it wasn't until she was halfway across the living room before he called out.

"Um, you know, we don't have to be anywhere?"

Hopefully posing it as a question sounded less pathetic than, 'hey don't leave me!'

Christ, he realized with dismay, he really was down to begging her for five minutes of her time!

Emily stopping, her hair whipping around when she turned her head.

"I'm sorry," she pouted slightly while doing a little dance, "but I _really_ have to go to the bathroom!"

She'd woken up at five to go, but she could hear his quiet even breaths coming from behind her. She just couldn't bear to wake him up again then.

Plus . . . aside from the slight pressure on her bladder . . . she was otherwise really, really comfortable with him all warm and cushiony pressed against her. So instead of getting up, she'd let her mind wander imagining their perfect night out in two weeks. That put her back to sleep with happy dreams.

Aaron's dimple slipped out at the dance.

"Oh, well," his eyes crinkled, "it is probably best if you got up then. I don't think this couch is waterproof."

Emily giggled before she turned to sprint up the staircase. Aaron looked after her for a moment before slowly shaking his head.

_Definitely out of his league._

But . . . he pushed himself up and stretched . . . for some inexplicable reason, she really seemed to like him.

He huffed to himself as he walked down to the kitchen.

Perhaps her limited social exposure was working to his advantage here. Either way, the least he could do . . . he began filling the coffee maker with water . . . was make the girl breakfast.

After all she'd made almost every other meal for him.

Around Emily Aaron felt very much like Ward Cleaver. She was a homemaker.

A nester.

Not only had she baked the pie last night and made him cocoa. But back home, in addition to all the meals she'd made, she'd also baked two or three batches of cookies for him.

And she was a really good cook! If she kept up with the baked goods he was going to have to add another mile onto his run every day just to keep in shape.

She was also Johnny on the Spot filling his coffee cup as soon as it reached the halfway point.

He stopped his coffee prep for a second as a thought occurred to him. Then he burst out laughing.

It was the WAITRESSING! _That's_ why she was always filling up his coffee cup!

He chuckled to himself . . . the next time she did it he was giving her a quarter tip. Maybe that would break her out of the habit of doing it at home.

Okay . . . he started measuring out the coffee . . . that explained the coffee thing at least. And perhaps the cookie and pie baking was in part a way to fill her boredom. But he knew that wasn't all of it.

Mostly he figured that was just Emily being Emily. And it had clearly been established that he _liked _Emily.

He liked her A LOT. But he just wasn't used to this sort of . . . attention.

Haley had been his only serious girlfriend and she wasn't very domestic by nature. And on top of _that_, she was also VERY liberated. She'd majored in political science and minored in women's studies.

At Vassar.

So yeah . . . he watched as the coffee began to trickle into the carafe . . . Haley was about as liberated as they got.

She certainly wasn't much for cooking . . . he cooked or they ate out . . . or waiting on him.

Not that he would have expected her to do those things. But Emily was a different kind of girl in so many ways. And call him a sexist, but it was kind of nice to have somebody that wanted to look after him a little bit.

And he figured as long as he was looking after her too, then they were kind of even. He was just a little worried about after the assignment ended. Just that somehow he was going to get spoiled and fall into a mindset where it was 1957 and June Cleaver was going to be waiting for him in the kitchen every night with a kiss and a cold beverage.

Not that he wouldn't enjoy being greeted at the door with a kiss from a pretty girl. But he didn't want Emily to feel like she needed to do these things so he would like her.

He liked her just fine without all the little extra perks. And he just needed to make sure that she knew that.

His head popped up as the subject of his musings came back into the room. And again he realized that this span of two weeks was going to be a very long time.

Because his first instinct when she walked into the kitchen was to kiss her. But he couldn't do that for thirteen more days.

And that really sucked.

So instead he gave her a little smile as he crossed over and ran his hands down her arms, stopping to squeeze her fingers.

"Hey."

Emily smiled at him, "hey," she sniffed, "you already started the coffee," she patted his arm as she walked over to get the mugs off the hooks, "I would have done that."

Damn, she should have been quicker!

His eyes crinkled as he followed her over, reaching up to take the coffee mugs down before she could.

"Yeah, about that, you don't have to do that all the time you know."

Might as well bring it up now while the thought was fresh in his head.

Her brow wrinkled as she looked up at him in befuddlement, "make coffee?"

Huh.

He stopped, his eyes crinkling as he saw the crease in her brow . . . she was so cute. Then he tipped his head, "well, I just mean that you don't have to um," he paused for a second, knowing he'd had a tendency to stick his foot in his mouth that weekend and not wanting to do it again, "um do things. For me I mean. You don't have to do things for me."

There, that was nicely phrased. And therefore should be well received.

Or . . . he noticed her little pout . . . maybe not.

"But I like to do things for you," she frowned, "it makes me feel good."

That first week he was there she'd started to see that she was getting a little crush. The result was the first batch of chocolate chip cookies. And she could see that he enjoyed them so she started doing other stuff too.

But . . . she could see the slight look of panic on his face at her reaction . . . maybe she should explain why she liked to do these things.

So she leaned back against the counter and sighed as she looked up at him, "for the first part of my life we had so many strangers around us all the time, doing things for us, making dinner, washing the clothes, cleaning the house," she tipped her head, "usual stuff for wealthy families. But then after Johannesburg mother threw all of those people out. The security detail was necessary, nobody else was. So we had chores, all three of us, and mother's was cooking. Provided she wasn't traveling, she made dinner every night. And when she was away I cooked for daddy. Now granted, with my parents' schedules, sometimes we ate at nine or ten but that didn't matter. What mattered to her was that our time together was as a family. So she made cookies and birthday cakes and packed my lunch until I was sixteen. That's the year I told her I wanted to start eating at the cafeteria like my friends," Emily's eyes got watery as she looked at the butcher block counter, "I thought she was going to cry."

She looked back up at him, "in her mind doing those things was her way of showing me that she loved me, and I took that away," her eyes fell to the counter again as she swallowed, "so I guess part of what's happened in the family is my fault too," she lifted her gaze again, "I like you Aaron. I like doing these things," her eyes burned, "so please, _let_ me do these things. Don't take them away from me like I did to my mother."

How would he know that she cared about him if she didn't get to take care of him?

This was how they did things in her family . . . she swallowed . . . or at least how they used to.

Aaron's expression had softened as she was talking. And when she was done he stepped closer, picking up her hand as he whispered, "I'm sorry, I didn't realize how important it was to you. I just didn't want you to feel obligated to . . . well, wait on me. It's not something I'm used to," he brushed her hair back behind her ear, "but now that I understand . . . maybe sometimes I can do things for you," he tipped his head down to catch her eyes, "you see what I mean?"

If this was how she'd been taught to express affection, it seemed all the more important that if they were going to become involved that she not do _everything_ for him.

Otherwise their relationship would be unequal.

For a second she stared at him, considering his words, and then she nodded, "okay, I guess I know what you're saying. Daddy always made breakfast for us so," her eyes crinkled, "maybe you could pick a meal too."

At his smile, hers began to fade slightly and she reached up to touch his cheek, "but there's one other thing. And please don't take this the wrong way, but, well . . . um . . ."

Seeing his growing look of concern she finally just spit it out, "your coffee's terrible!"

Twice she'd come into the kitchen to make coffee only to discover that he already had. It was vile! She had to keep pouring it into his cup just so she could empty the pot and make a fresh one!

At her outburst his mouth started to quiver, and then his body began to shake as he tried to keep the laughter in. Finally he snorted a guffaw, "why didn't you say something before!?"

Of all the things he'd thought were going to come out of her mouth, that didn't even make the list.

She frowned and rubbed his arm, "well, I didn't want to hurt your feelings."

He smiled, "that's sweet but it's really okay," he huffed, "and if you would prefer then you can make the coffee."

Her eyes crinkled as she saw his amusement was genuine, "thank you. I was hoping you wouldn't be offended."

Thank God that was finally out in the open. She'd been trying to think of a delicate way to bring it up for over a week!

"No," he shook his head still chuckling, "I'm not offended," he tipped his head, "what's the problem with mine though? Is it too strong? Because that might be a couple years of drinking 0ctane rated black coffee in police stations. I guess I might be a little indifferent to it."

Her nose wrinkled, "yeah, it's really, really, REALLY strong," she looked over at the coffee maker, "how many scoops did you put in today?"

History indicated probably too many.

"Five," he answered cautiously.

Somehow he knew this was going to be a wrong answer.

Her head whipped back around, "and how many cups of water?" she asked worriedly.

"Um . . . five. And," he cleared his throat, "I'm judging by the look on your face that perhaps that was not the correct measurement."

She looked over sadly at the coffee maker, "no, um, that would be too much."

Crap. It was going to taste like tar.

Seeing how disappointed she was, Aaron immediately went over and unplugged the machine. Then he brought it to the sink where he dumped out the half full carafe before removing the steaming cup of grounds and putting them on a paper towel. Finally he tipped the machine so the remaining water would run into the sink. Then he dried everything off, plugged it back in, and turned back to her.

"Okay, tell me how to do it right."

She bit her lip . . . definitely picked a winner here.

"Okay," she cleared her throat as she joined him at the other counter, "you measure one to two. So like six cups of water to three scoops of coffee."

Then Aaron watched as she started measuring everything out again. But . . . his brow wrinkled and he put his hand up, "wait isn't that too much coffee?"

She'd thrown in almost a whole extra scoop.

"Well," she stated casually as she plugged the coffeemaker back in, "sometimes people like it a little stronger. So," her eyes crinkled as she turned back to him, "you should compromise and throw in an extra scoop. That way everyone's happy."

There was nothing wrong with him liking strong coffee. It was a personal preference, and she shouldn't force him to do things her way.

And it's not that she was opposed to strong coffee in principle, she just preferred for it to still be in liquid form.

He looked down at her, and even though there were still two weeks on the clock, he pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. For a moment he just held her, and then he whispered against her hair, "you might be kind of new at this, but trust me, you're already an expert at this relationship stuff."

It had taken him years to learn the fine art of compromise.

Doing Thanksgiving dinner at her parents and having dessert at his. Alternating Fridays spent with his friends or hers. How often he should sleep over her apartment versus how often she should sleep over at his apartment.

For so long he and Haley fought over these things . . . _really_ fought about them . . . because both of them felt that they were right and that the other person should just see things his or her way.

They'd almost broken up the first year about where to go for New Year's Eve.

When he was younger he hadn't understood that you needed to be flexible to make a relationship work. If _you _always give in, YOU became resentful. If you always insisted on things being done your way, then SHE becomes resentful.

Learning how to balance your wants and needs with your partner's is a huge thing, but here Emily is, walking in the door, and she already has that stuff figured out.

He rubbed his hand along her back as he huffed to himself . . . whatever were they going to fight about?

Emily smiled at his praise as she rested her cheek against the soft cotton of his t-shirt. Then she closed her eyes.

This was the best. She wasn't sure how affectionate he would be with her before the two weeks were up, but so far they were doing very well.

A hug last night, a snuggle on the couch and now more hugging.

And though she'd of course heard good things about sex, there was nothing in her mind that was going to discount the merits of regular hugging with this man.

He was warm and strong . . . and he made her feel safe.

For so many years she'd lived in a constant state of anxiety. The higher the family profile, the more threats they got.

The past five years had been really bad.

Her mother was a constant target, especially now that she was the face of the American people to the Middle East.

The female face.

At least two additional serious attempts had been made on her life over the past two years. And more than once she'd implored Emily to allow them to pay for private security for her.

Just because the Bureau no longer considered her eligible for full time protection didn't mean that she didn't need it.

But Emily had gently declined over and over. As long as there weren't any specific threats directed at her personally, there was nothing to worry about.

That's what she told her mother anyway.

In reality she was nervous, the family was driven around in bomb resistant cars and lived in houses with bullet resistant glass. It was upsetting.

The reality of their life was genuinely, upsetting.

But most of her real anxiety was related to worries about her mother, not herself. At least until she saw that creepy picture. It had really freaked her out.

Not even just the threat, but the idea that somebody, somewhere in the world, had sat down with a picture of her . . . HER . . . and then slashed it to bits.

That was horrible because it was so personal.

That was her FACE!

It almost would have been easier to stomach if they'd just painted a bull's eye on her.

But with Aaron's arms around her, it was impossible to believe that there was any threat, any danger, _any_ possibility, that she could be hurt.

She'd been watching agents for years and she knew who was really good, and who just okay. And even though she knew that Aaron hadn't been doing this for as long as most of her previous handlers, there was something about him.

He exuded a strength that made her believe that there wasn't anything that he couldn't handle.

She sighed against his chest . . . and the next time her mother offered to pay for a guard Emily could tell her without artifice that she had her own private security.

There was no longer any reason to worry.

Aaron felt the little sigh against his chest and he rubbed her back as he whispered, "what are you thinking?"

Never having been one to lie unless absolutely necessary, Emily answered him with the complete truth as she murmured back, "that you make me feel safe."

His eyes stung for a moment before he blinked and leaned down to kiss her head again, "good. Because I promise, nothing bad will happen to you while I'm around."

Moments like this were probably why the other agents tried to warn him about becoming emotionally attached. If something were to happen to her . . . which it absolutely would NOT, his brain automatically corrected . . . there's no way he'd be able to live with himself.

Not now, not with these feelings he had for her. And not with her so completely trusting of him. And not just with her life, but last night he'd seen it was her whole sense of self.

She was giving herself to him for safe keeping and that was an enormous responsibility.

He couldn't let her down.

And that was the moment she looked up at him and said, "do you think you could show me how to shoot today? I meant to ask you last night but with everything else that happened I forgot," her jaw twitched for a second, "I've had a bit of a phobia about handguns since the shooting and I thought maybe if you could educate me a little more, maybe I'd get more comfortable with them."

His brow creased for a second, and then he nodded, "yeah, we can do that," he stepped back to go over and pour their coffee, "I'd prefer to show you in more controlled environment but I suppose it's deserted enough up here that it shouldn't be a problem."

The concern obviously being that a stray round goes flying into somebody's window.

Or worse . . . somebody's head.

But there shouldn't . . . operative word being _shouldn't_ . . . be anyone around for miles. So he figured he could set something up down by the lake. And besides . . . he added in the three sugars and two splashes of cream he'd seen her put in her coffee for the past two weeks . . . he liked the idea of her, not only trying to work on her traumas from that day, but also, just learning how to protect herself.

"Thanks," Emily gave him a little smile as he handed her a mug of coffee just the way she liked it. After she took a sip she added, "and I really appreciate you agreeing to take me out."

Aaron shook his head, "no, I think it's a good idea," he took a sip of Emily's version of strong coffee and nodded appreciatively . . . it was good. Then he raised his brow, "have you ever taken any self defense courses?"

If she hadn't, that was definitely something he was getting her set up for when they got home. When this assignment ended he wasn't going to be with her 24/7 any longer. And she didn't need to be the target of any particular terrorist or home grown whackjob to run into trouble. There were too many dangers for pretty girls out in the world.

His stomach knotted a little as he saw her shake her head . . . way too many dangers.

"No, nothing formally," Emily responded, "but some of the agents did teach me a few things over the years. I had one when I was young, an Agent Rossi," she chuckled as she thought back, "he was funny, I think you would have liked him. He went out of his way to teach me all the basics on how to shift my weight and where to kick and hit for maximum damage." Her cheeks got a little warm as she thought back, and then she began to giggle, "one time I pulled back, lost my balance and busted his nose."

As he leaned against the counter, Aaron's lip quirked up in amusement, "was he mad?"

"Nope," she smiled, "he just said the next time I gave a guy a bloody nose I was supposed to run away. NOT burst into tears and run get him a towel."

Aaron started to chuckle, "that is some solid advice there. I hope you took it to heart."

Yeah, she was probably right. It sounds like he would have liked this Agent Rossi. And knowing what a lonely life she'd led, Aaron was glad that somebody else had once taken her under his wing.

Her eyes crinkled, "yep, the next spring I was at the sixth grade formal and Jimmy Nelson tried to put his hand down my dress. I belted him, blood spurted all over his dad's tie and then I ran like hell. When I got home I wrote Agent Rossi a letter and told him what happened." Her lip quirked up, "a week letter I got a big envelope from him with a piece of bonded paper in it. It said, _'Emily Victoria Prentiss is hereby awarded this commendation for ass kicking under fire.'_ And then he put in a little note that he was proud of me," her eyes began to sting, "I hung them both up in my room." She looked back at Aaron hopefully, "do you think you could find out where he is now? He was always really good to me and I'd like to see how he's doing."

For the first few years after he'd transferred they'd kind of kept in touch. She sent him Christmas cards at the Bureau, he sent back a little note. But then one year she'd sent her card and she hadn't heard anything from him. At first she'd been a little hurt, but then she realized that he most likely got transferred.

It's not like they'd talked enough that she would have been in the loop on his career plans.

Aaron nodded, "sure, just remind me if I forget though," his eyes softened as he looked over at her, "how long was he with you?"

It was obvious that he'd come to mean a lot to her.

"Nine months," her eyes shifted over to his, "he was with us in Johannesburg."

His eyes widened in surprise, "wait, was _he_ the one that threw you into the car?"

This was an expected twist. And it probably wasn't something that he would have asked her to talk about until they'd known each other better.

But as long as she'd brought it up he didn't see any reason not to ask.

"Uh, yeah, he was," she said in confusion, "but how did you . . .?"

That was weirdly, dead on, psychic.

Seeing the look of surprise on her face, Aaron sheepishly explained, "when I was in the office I saw the stack of newspapers and I'm sorry but I snooped a little. And when I saw that picture of your mother, last night was the first time I noticed you in the background," he moved over to sit down on one of the stools, "but can I ask? What did he say to you?"

He didn't even bother asking if she remembered. Though he'd fortunately never been in a scenario that bad . . . not yet anyway . . . he knew that it wasn't the kind of day that would just 'slip your mind.'

Her eyes started to get a little misty as she thought back, "that my mom was okay but," then a faint smile touched her lips, "that we were at Code Kermit and I had to be a good girl, but everything would be okay."

Of course the last part was a lie. But she didn't hold that one against him, Agent Kowalski had been his friend. And even at her young age she'd known that he'd been devastated by his death. If she'd see that he looked sad, she'd go get a cookie and a glass of milk. Then she'd return and hand them to him before she patted his hand.

As though cookies and milk would lessen his grief.

But cookies and milk always made her feel better when she was sad, so that's all she knew. And he would always conjure up a smile and thank her, so he seemed to appreciate her childish efforts at comforting him. And soon after that he'd started teaching her things. She realized later that he'd probably come to see that he wasn't going to be with her forever and he wanted her to be able to take care of herself.

God, she hadn't seen the man in over a decade and she suddenly missed him terribly.

Wrinkling his brow in confusion, Aaron asked, "code . . . Kermit?"

That definitely wasn't in the manual.

Emily blinked away the moisture in her eyes as she gave him a little smile.

"That was something he made up. I used to watch the Muppets all the time," she huffed, "it drove him nuts but he knew I would remember the term so that's what he nicknamed a critical incident," her voice deepened to her best Agent Rossi impersonation, "if I call a Code Kermit Emily Victoria then you need to hush your little yap and do as you're told no questions asked," she looked over at Aaron sheepishly, "I could be kind of a pain sometimes, complaining that I couldn't go out and play or I could never go to anybody's house for a sleepover. Agent Rossi was the only one that didn't seem to mind putting up with me."

She'd sometimes wondered if maybe he had a daughter her age, but there wasn't any wedding ring and he never talked about having a family.

Aaron smiled, "I'm sure you weren't that bad Emily."

He couldn't imagine her ever being a whiny little rich girl. Not someone like her. Someone who insisted on putting something in the cup of every homeless person they saw.

And that was even though Aaron knew that she worked to make her own ends meet.

She wasn't just kind to the less fortunate though, she'd also made him take her to the park twice so she could feed the squirrels. NOT the birds, the _squirrels_. She said the squirrels always got the shaft because they couldn't swoop in and snatch food like the birds did. So once a week she liked to bring them a bag of walnuts. And the last two Thursdays he had stood guard over her as she sat on a bench in Rock Creek Park looking for all the world like St. Francis with her little circle of forest animals around her.

It was really sweet. And definitely didn't scream bratty upbringing.

Her head tipped down slightly.

"Well, I wasn't a _horror_ show, but I really wasn't as nice as I should have been. They were just doing their jobs and I wasn't always very cooperative."

Aaron walked over and squeezed her fingers.

"Emily, you were just a little kid. Your brain probably wasn't even chemically capable of processing that degree of complex empathy. Anyway though, I'm sure you weren't as bad as you think you were," he reached up to brush her hair back from her shoulder, "I just don't see it in you. And when I track down this Agent Rossi I'll ask him and I'm sure he'll say you were a delightful girl," his lip quirked up, "if a bit chatty."

She grinned, "come to think of it he did once ask who yanked the string on my back and was there some way for him to snip it off."

"Ha!" Aaron barked a laugh, "I'm definitely going to track down this Rossi guy when we get home. Now though," he went back and picked up his coffee again before he looked back at her, "what do you want to do today?" he tipped his head, "besides shooting."

"Um," her jaw twitched back and forth for a second as she considered the question, "um, maybe we could go down to the lake."

His eyes crinkled as he pictured her in a bikini, then he nodded, "yeah, we can do that. But first, I'm decreeing that I shall make YOU breakfast today."

As her mouth twitched he crossed over to the refrigerator, ducking inside the door for a second. Then he turned back to her as he asked seriously, "do you want eggs and toast or toast and eggs?"

They had apparently forgotten to buy cereal or any sort of breakfast meat. It kind of limited their options.

Emily made a show of thinking for a second before she nodded, "I think toast and eggs," then she waited until he nodded and went over to pop the bread into the toaster before she put her hand up, "NO wait, eggs and toast!"

He rolled his eyes, "damn it Emily," he huffed in mock anger, "I already started toast and eggs!" Then he grinned at her . . . her lips twitched at the appearance of both dimples.

_The girls at the coffee shop were going to be SO jealous!_

And as she thought about it, it made sense that he wanted to occasionally do some things for her. She was just going to have to get used to that.

Especially the cooking thing, she really liked to cook for him. But this weekend was probably a good time to find out the extent of his culinary expertise anyway.

Things were really new, so maybe they could work out some routine that they could take with them into the next phase of things.

So she sat there silently for a minute watching as he took the milk and cheese out of the refrigerator. They joined the eggs already sitting on the counter.

A moment later her mouth started to twitch as she watched him dig a shell out of the bowl he'd just cracked the eggs into.

He shot her a sheepish grin before he turned back to start chopping off a section of the block of cheddar.

Well . . . her eyes crinkled as he bumped into the frying pan and it clattered to the floor . . . this was incredibly sweet of him. But if his omelets were on par with his coffee . . . and things weren't looking good so far . . . then she'd just tell him when they got home that her favorite breakfast food was actually Lucky Charms.

He'd just have to pour the milk and pour the cereal . . . she nodded firmly to herself as he rinsed off the pan . . . he wouldn't be able to screw that up.

* * *

_A/N 2: I was planning on taking them further into the day, but then the idea of pulling Dave into the story came to me and I went off on a little side tangent with Emily's memories of him. And when all was said and done I'd already hit 6000 words so I figured it was a good stopping place._

_I was not planning on including any of the team here. Not only is there no BAU, but they were all young and scattered all over the country. They were still in school and wouldn't have necessarily been in the DC area for another decade. But then I thought of Dave. And it's well established that I love me some Dave, so I decided as long as Emily and Aaron's lives had gone off on completely different paths then perhaps Dave's had as well. And the assassination attempt was early 80s, like '81, so nothing to say Dave hadn't also done a stint working VIP protection. He was coming from a Marine background (we'll say that's true here as well), so standing a post wouldn't have been a stretch for him. But I just liked the image of him and a little Emily being friends. Plus now, I can work him a cameo in this world a little later :) Maybe he's working at the BAU, maybe not. If Hotch hasn't heard of him then he can't have been the 'superstar' that he was portrayed as being in canon. So maybe he chose a different unit. _

_I definitely gave Haley a different feel here too. But I could never understand how in canon she and Hotch met in college (HARVARD College) and yet she didn't work! And it's not like she didn't work because they had Jack. They'd been married for like 14 yrs before they had a baby. There's certainly nothing wrong with being a homemaker, but it just seemed so strange that you'd get this prestigious education and then CHOOSE to do nothing with it. And they even made a little note about that when she popped up in the season opener and said "I'm working now" like acknowledging that hadn't been working before. So I just wanted to give her a bit more sense of self here._

_Along the same lines (in reverse) I tweaked the Ambassador a bit. Things were portrayed as distant between Emily and her mom so I softened her mother up because I wanted them to have a warmer, loving relationship. I've said before, in so many ways, the relationship with your parents, their absence or presence, does mold you into the person that you become. Also, if you've never read my other stuff, I always tell you to imagine Emily's dad as Bruce Boxleitner :) That goes for here as well. He definitely has the grin to be a politician, and early 80s was PRIME hotness for "Scarecrow" :)_

_Chiroho has given me tons of good ideas on where to take this story. And one of them was a request to see a scene where Emily takes Aaron to her little coffee shop job. And I think that would be a cute scene so that note I put above about his dimples sets that up. And provided my poor addled brain is working, whenever I add something in that somebody else suggests to me, I do always give credit. And basically I think Chiroho is going to have to take like a ghost writing credit for "The Gingerbread House" (I think that will be the name of the larger story) because he's seriously set me up with like 25 different things to write! Good man ;)_

_I think you can see now that we are set up for a trip to the lake and a shirtless Hotch :) And a bikini clad Emily if that's your thing :)_

_As much as it pains me I'm going to force myself to take a little break from this to clean up the next Girl. I don't want to get too far behind. And I also owe Kavi like 25 Christmas prompts. Yes, hon, I know you're waiting patiently :) I'll get them to you tonight. And I mean that for real, not like when I lied to you on Sunday :) _

_So back on Saturday with another chapter here and hopefully that next Girl._

_Lastly, this is just for Wildtreerenee, I just wanted to say thank you very much for your very sweet note :) And I had to do that here because I couldn't write back ;) But if you'd like to chat further, just send me another PM._


	7. Diving in Head First

**Author's Note: ** Though I didn't give you everything I promised, hopefully you'll still be satisfied with the course of events here :)

* * *

**Diving in Head First**

Emily watched nervously as Aaron began setting up a makeshift target for them in the backyard.

After breakfast . . . a delicious breakfast that had made her feel guilty for doubting him . . . she'd done the dishes while he showered, and then he put everything away while she showered.

Then she'd taken him to the shed out back for him to see what they had to choose from for target building supplies.

He'd been pleased.

So now he was propping up the bulls eye he'd made from the leftover paint and wood scraps he'd found in the small shack.

Her anxiety was momentarily lessened as she saw him bend over to prop some rocks up behind his wooden target. A faint smile touched her lips.

This was the first time she'd seen him in jeans and he had a really cute butt.

Of course . . . he looked up and she put her hand up in a little wave . . . he had a really cute everything else too so that was probably to be expected.

Aaron smiled as he saw Emily watching him intently from a few yards away. The summer sun was glinting off of her hair giving it little specks of red and gold.

She looked beautiful. And to his amazement she was his now.

Ridiculous.

With a huff, he brushed off his hands and then stopped to scan the woods around them.

It was quiet except for the sounds of the birds and the insects, so he started walking back towards her, pulling his revolver out as he went.

As he walked up he could see her looking nervously at the weapon in his hand. His expression softened as he moved the gun behind his back.

"Emily," he said gently, "we don't have to do this today if you don't want to. We can wait until we get home," he squeezed her shoulder, "maybe it would be better if we started with some book research first."

The point of this exercise was to get her more comfortable around guns, _not_ send her into a blind panic. And given the look on her face right now he was afraid that they were heading towards the latter result.

Emily's jaw twitched as she stared up at him intently. Then her eyes fell down to the handgun she knew was behind his back.

This burst of anxiety she was feeling was very unexpected. It's not like she hadn't regularly seen guns since the shooting. Hell, Aaron had one tucked into the couch cushion three inches from her head last night!

But this was the first time she'd ever contemplated holding a gun. And the prospect was oddly terrifying. You could kill somebody with that little piece of metal.

Kill them.

A person could cease to exist on the planet because your finger moved a fraction of a centimeter.

She began to grind her teeth . . . even though this was her idea, she suddenly wasn't at all sure if she was ready for the responsibility that would come with pulling that trigger.

But she didn't want to be a coward either. How was she going to get past this if she didn't deal with it?

Seeing the rising fear on her face, Aaron's heart clenched as he immediately slipped his gun into his waistband and pulled her into a hug.

"I think maybe it would be better if we did this when we got home," he said gently, "I still have some of my textbooks from the academy. We can go over the ballistic and rifling sections. You can get some intellectual education on the topic before we move to this step."

He really wished he'd thought of that before. Maybe she wouldn't have gotten so spooked if he'd just stopped and thought about her request before he assented to it.

Though he of course wanted to help her, handing her a loaded weapon on day one probably wasn't the best approach.

Feeling like a complete fool, Emily tipped her head back to look at him, "but I wanted to try today," her eyes stung, "I thought I could do it. And it seems stupid that I'm so afraid of a hunk of metal."

His brow darkened as he said soothingly, "hey, it's not stupid at all. You saw a terrible thing. It's completely understandable that guns would now make you uncomfortable," he was quiet for a second as he thought about the problem, and then he rubbed her back, "I think I have a better idea," he shook his head, "you definitely aren't ready yet for shooting. So what I think would be better," he slipped her under his arm and began walking them back to the house, "would be for us to go inside and play Mr. Science."

Her eyebrow quirked slightly as she looked at him.

"Mr. Science?" she asked questioningly.

What was he talking about?

He nodded, "yeah, we'll go in and take the whole thing apart. We'll go back to basics. You can see the components for what they are, just little bits of metal."

They got back to the front door and he slipped his key into the lock, "then we'll go from there."

Without getting her some real therapy . . . and he figured if she was interested in such a thing she would have gotten it by now . . . this was probably the best approach.

Nice and slow.

He'd teach her what the pieces were and what each of them did. And she could handle them individually, get a feel for their weight and their purpose.

Then, once she was comfortable with the pieces, he'd teach her how to put the gun together herself. She'd feel more of a sense of control that way.

And eventually . . . when she was ready . . . he'd put the bullets back into it again.

And THEN, they could go the range . . . off hours so they wouldn't have an audience . . . and she could try shooting again.

Nice and slow.

As he thought about it now . . . his fingers ran along the bare skin of her arm . . . handing her a loaded gun today probably would have been a _very_ bad idea. Considering her reaction to the thunderstorm, if her phobia about loud noises was that bad, he couldn't even imagine what her reaction to an actual gunshot would be.

Controlled environment or not . . . it would probably have been a very poor judgment call on his part.

Emily chewed on her lip as Aaron guided her inside the front door.

'Look at the pieces,' the term rolled around in her head. Hmm . . . maybe he was right.

That would be less . . . she shuddered involuntarily . . . scary.

Feeling her shiver, Aaron kicked himself again as he pulled her to his chest while he simultaneously punched in the security code over her head. Once the lights turned green again he wrapped his other arm around her and whispered against her ear.

"Emily this is supposed to be about making you _comfortable_. And obviously this is making you very UNcomfortable," he sighed, "I think it would probably be a good idea if we waited until we got home to start working on an approach here."

Christ, the last thing he wanted to do was traumatize her further! But now here she is shaking in his arms!

Good job Aaron . . . he berated himself angrily as he pulled her in closer . . . real good job.

Emily was quiet for a moment before she murmured sadly against his chest, "but I really wanted to do this. I'm just . . ."

'A big baby' is the first thing that came to mind.

But . . . even though she was disappointed in herself . . . she did know that was a little harsh.

You can't control your childhood traumas. If she stepped back and looked at it objectively, she would never think so unkindly about another person who had experienced such a terrible event.

So she shouldn't be so mean to herself either.

And though she hadn't known him that long, Emily also sensed from Aaron's tone that he was somehow blaming himself for her getting herself worked up about this. And that was really sweet, but this wasn't his fault.

It was just her life. And what she was dealing with now was nobody's fault but the man who had sent those bullets flying into a crowded marketplace in South Africa.

And she didn't want Aaron to feel badly about anything that happened to her before.

So she tipped her head back to look up at him as she finished her sentence, "I'm just maybe expecting a little too much from myself right away," then she gave him a little smile, "and I think you're a very smart man. We should wait until we get home," her lip quirked up, "after all, we have two more weeks to kill. Maybe we can get this one knocked out next week and then start working on my unhealthy obsession with Kevin Costner's butt."

As she'd hoped, his lips twitched at her joke. But then he sobered again as he said worriedly, "I just don't want to do anything here that's going to make this worse."

Her hand slid up from his waist to rub his back, "I know. And I really appreciate that. But remember, this was my idea so I don't want you to feel badly that it didn't work out."

That's all she needed, _her_ childhood trauma gives HIM a complex!

Aaron stared at her for a moment before his eyes brightened slightly, "you know what? Maybe we can talk to one of the shrinks at the Academy. They've started pushing psych classes on us, and I figure if anyone would have some specialized training in dealing with trauma it would be an FBI psychiatrist."

They were trying to teach them about behavioral analysis in school now. It was a fairly new field of study for the Academy and the little that he'd learned hadn't really seemed to be something that was all that interesting to him. He was really just aiming to get to HRT.

He wanted a little action.

Her brow wrinkled slightly in concern, "a psychiatrist. Um, I don't really know if I want . . . therapy."

That made it sound like she was seriously messed up or something. It's not like she was paralyzed with fear. She just had a little issue with loud noises.

And . . . her eyes snapped down to the gun she couldn't see . . . handguns.

Neither of those issues were major impediments to her daily life. This was just tying off some loose ends.

He shook his head, "not therapy. Just a little advice," he tipped his head, "off the record advice if you'd prefer. I can talk to him by proxy. Mention the problem generally and see what he suggests for an approach," he tipped his head down to catch her eyes, "how does that sound?"

It was about the only plan that either of them had come up with yet that hadn't raised any red flags in his mind.

She gave him a little smile, "yeah, okay. That sounds good. Maybe a little professional advice would be helpful."

He smiled, "good," he pulled her back to his chest as he sighed, "very good."

Finally . . . he huffed to himself . . . an approach that wasn't going to result in her getting committed to the local psych ward.

Emily smiled against his chest as she took note of how closely Aaron was holding her.

With the exception of the kissing . . . and the down the road sex . . . there wasn't much to indicate that they were still in a holding pattern.

Aaron glanced down to see the little grin on her face, and his eyebrow quirked up, "what?" he asked with an amused curiosity.

It didn't matter what it was, he was really just glad to see the tension was fading from around her eyes.

For a moment Emily stared up at him in a bit of a panic, worrying that if she said something that she'd burst the bubble.

Finally she decided that there was little risk of that. After all, he was the one that had been initiating pretty much _everything_. He was the one that had asked her out, and he was the one who had been putting his arm around her regularly.

And most importantly he was the one that was holding her _very_ possessively right now.

It was unlikely that he'd suddenly start treating her like she had the plague just because she brought these things to his attention.

So she reached up and cupped his jaw with her palm, "I was just thinking how nice this is," she said softly.

She didn't feel the need to explain what the 'this' was. And though 'this' was still something that she was getting used to, it was something she'd miss terribly if it suddenly stopped.

But to her delight, rather than loosening his hold, Aaron's eyes crinkled slightly as she felt his hands slide around to her back and lock at her waist.

"It is nice," he responded softly.

It wasn't yet kissing and sex but it was _really_ nice.

Though as he looked at her now, he was thinking that two more weeks without kissing was going to be damn near impossible.

Crap.

As Emily saw the little frown appear on his face she looked up worriedly, "what's the matter? Is there a but on there?"

His gaze shifted over her shoulder as he sighed, "I'm wondering if maybe I'll have to ask for a transfer."

Before he could even get another word out Emily had exclaimed in alarm, "what?! Why?"

Why would he transfer when things were going so well!?

His eyes snapped back down as he said soothingly, "I didn't say _definitely_. I said maybe."

Though they were fast moving towards a 'definitely' but that wasn't the point at the moment. He really just wanted to wipe that worried look off of her face. Either way though he should explain himself because her tension levels had _just_ dropped and now he'd ramped them up again.

He sighed in exasperation, "Emily, I'm just worried that I'm going to lose my objectivity. If that happens, then I'm not going to be of any use to you."

That was his biggest fear in life now . . . failing her. Even as they walked through the backyard talking, his eyes had been everywhere watching the trees.

No matter what, he had to stay vigilant.

Emily's lip came out for a moment before she pulled out of his arms and took a step back.

She wasn't doing it because she was upset with him . . . she just needed a little space to process what he'd said.

But as she saw the look of dismay appear on his face, her expression softened as she reached back to take his hand, "come sit with me."

With a slight tug, Emily led Aaron over to the couch where she gently pushed him down. Then she sat down next to him, pulling her legs up under her so she could sit cross legged and face him.

His fingers were grasped around hers like he was afraid that she was going to float away. And the tension on his face as he turned to her was so apparent that it made her heart ache.

That's when she realized that he was probably thinking that she was going to 'break up' with him before they'd even had a chance to officially go out.

For all of his attempts at stoic detachment these past couple weeks, she was starting to see that was more a defense mechanism than anything else. He obviously had a soft heart under that hard shell. And now that his shields were down with her, it was clear that she had the ability to hurt him.

She brought his hand up and kissed his knuckles . . . and the last thing she wanted to do was hurt him.

As they sat down, Aaron looked over nervously at Emily. A woman pulling herself away from you like that is never a good thing.

He wasn't quite sure what the topic of the couch conversation was going to be. But he didn't think it would be anything good.

But then she kissed his hand and gave him a little smile, and some of the tension went out of the knot in his stomach.

"Aaron," Emily started slowly as she pulled his hand over to rest on her knee, "I want you to think for a second. Do you _truly_ believe that I would be safer with someone else sitting with me right now? Do you think that somebody else would have checked the locks ten times before we went to bed, or got up with me in the middle of the night because I was scared, or," her eyes crinkled slightly, "commandeered the employees' bathroom at the Safeway because you didn't want me using the public one?"

He scowled, "well, the public one was dirty."

She nodded, "exactly, the public one was dirty. But my point is, do you think anyone else would _care_?" she put her hand on his cheek as she asked softly, "do you think _anyone_ else would care as much as you do that I'm safe and happy?"

With the exception of Agent Rossi, she'd never had any agent take such a personal interest in her well being before. His concerns about objectivity on the job were things he learned in his training.

But they didn't translate to the real world.

His jaw twitched as his eyes fell down to their hands intertwined in her lap. Then he said quietly, "no."

She was right. Nobody else would be as hyper aware of her as he was. Not that another agent wouldn't protect her to the best of his abilities. That he wouldn't die to protect her.

But that person wouldn't have the same emotional investment that he now had.

Not to mention, Aaron knew that he'd be useless on another assignment. He'd be worrying constantly about whether or not she was safe.

If the agent with her had checked the windows to make sure the locks worked, or had cleared all the stalls in the bathroom before she went inside.

His gaze slowly came back up to hers and he gave her a little smile before shaking his head, "no transfer."

She smiled back as she agreed happily, "no transfer. We're stuck together for the next two weeks," she paused for a second before she added softly, "and hopefully for considerably longer than that."

It seemed silly to pretend that the one dinner was just the one dinner. They were holding hands as they sat on the couch . . . clearly they were seeing each other now.

It just wasn't official.

He nodded slowly, "hopefully."

Hopefully they'd be stuck together for a very long time. Because the more time he spent with her, the more attached he became to her. And the more attached he became, the less he could imagine a scenario in which he moved on without her.

They stared at each other for a moment, and then Hotch said screw it and leaned over to kiss her.

It wasn't a kiss filled with all consuming passion, but she did end up half climbing into his lap so he knew that they definitely had done something right.

And when he pulled back almost a minute later, there were butterflies in his stomach. And it had been years since he'd had butterflies when he kissed Haley.

He really just hoped though that he hadn't made a mistake in doing that so soon. But once Emily had pointed out that there was really no way that he was going to be able to transfer out in the next two weeks, he realized that the only thing that was honestly becoming a distraction for him was the desire to kiss her.

So by that logic, he figured that if he got the kiss out of the way, it would stop being a distraction.

And he could tell by the way that her eyes were sparkling as she leaned over him that she was pretty okay with the timing of the kiss.

"Wow," Emily grinned at him, "I most definitely wasn't expecting that today!"

KISSING! YAY! And he was SUCH a good kisser! She did have some kissing experience and that was definitely the best one yet.

One of his dimples popped out as he ran his thumb along her lower lip to fix her gloss. Then he looked back up at her, "well, I figured you were right about not being able to leave, and then I decided that I'd be able to concentrate better if I wasn't constantly thinking about doing that."

He'd never had to think up a logical reason for kissing a pretty girl before. It seemed kind of silly that the reason wasn't apparent on it's face.

"You've been constantly thinking about kissing me?" she asked quietly,

Oh man . . . she bit her lip . . . she was going to cry.

He nodded, "yep, on and off for about seven days now. I was doing pretty good ignoring it but," he winked, "you Miss Emily Victoria are definitely getting under my skin. So basically every time you've walked into the room today I've wanted to do that and I decided that maybe I just should," he raised his eyebrow in amusement, "I hope you don't mind."

If the look on her face was any indication, he was pretty sure that she didn't mind.

She gave him a watery smile, "nope," she shook her head, "didn't mind at all," then she sniffled as she wiped the corner of her eye, "so what does this mean?" she asked hopefully, "timetable moved up?"

It seemed a bit much to hope for that they were out of the holding pattern after only twenty four hours. But again, the whole twenty four hours had been a bit much too hope for.

His brow darkened slightly as he considered her question, "well, I can tell you right now if any of the agents working at the house see me do that then I'll end up getting yanked off your detail whether we like it or not. I might actually get suspended. So," his eyes dropped down to their intertwined fingers, "we'll be discrete until I'm rotated out, and then," he looked back up and shrugged, "it should be okay. There aren't any rules prohibiting personal relationships AFTER an assignment is over."

He really didn't think that being discrete was going to be an issue even after he left her detail. It's not like he was stupid enough to ever be kissing her out in the street.

After seeing that death threat, and still not knowing who sent it, he knew that when they were out in the world, he'd pretty much always be watching to make sure that nobody tried to take a box cutter to her pretty face.

There was no way that his hormones were going to allow him to forget for even an instant the base reason for his existence in her life.

But inside . . . he ran his thumb along the back of her hand . . . inside, when they were alone. That would be different.

That would just be time for them to get to know each other and share their lives.

He'd already wasted so much time this past year in a loveless relationship. Why put off trying to be happy again?

That seemed stupid.

Emily was pretty sure she'd never been so deliriously happy in all her relatively short years on the planet!

And now that he'd decided that kissing was okay when they were alone, she couldn't think of anything else she wanted to do for the rest of the day but make out on the couch.

So she scooted over, pushing herself up on her knees as she wrapped her arms around his neck. Then she looked down at him, "maybe we could stay inside today and . . ." she paused for a second before she gave him a shy smile, "watch television."

His lips twitched as his hands encircled her waist again, "watch television huh? But that's not what you said you wanted to do today," he teased, "you said, you wanted to go to the lake."

Though this was a very welcome move . . . this was also unexpectedly forward of her. But as he thought about it he realized that just because she hadn't had sex didn't mean that she'd been living in a convent for the past twenty-two years.

Then he winced slightly as he imagined her kissing another guy.

Yuck.

Bad road Aaron . . . he chastised himself . . . bad road.

She shifted a little closer and pressed a kiss to his right temple before she whispered, "well, maybe we could watch television this morning and then go to the lake after lunch."

His stomach flipped at the little kisses she was placing along his brow. Then his eyes closed for a second as he got his breathing back under control.

If she already had this much control over him now, he was going to be pretty much screwed down the road.

Once he was sure that he could speak nonchalantly he said, "well, if you insist," he pulled her down to sit on his thigh, "I guess we could 'watch television,' this morning."

He winked at her and she smirked at him. But then he wiped that grin away with another kiss that had a bit more oomph behind it than the first one.

After he pulled away a few minutes later with both of them panting for breath, he began kissing his way along her jaw. When she lifted it slightly to give him better access, he smiled as he moved down to her neck.

Emily moaned as she felt Aaron nibbling his way along. She hadn't had a hickey since she was seventeen and had gotten one from the Greek ambassador's son, Nickolas. They were in the linen closet of the Greek embassy at the time.

And though it was a few years ago, she remembered the sensation and was quite sure she was getting another brand on her neck today.

Nickolas was a decent kisser . . . at least by her minimal experience . . . but he was nowhere near as good as Aaron. Though to be fair to Nickolas, he was just a kid, and Aaron was a grown man with much more experience.

She sighed as he started working his way back up again before he sucked her earlobe into his mouth . . . and apparently practice makes perfect.

///////

Aaron dropped back down on the couch with a huff.

They'd spent so much time 'watching television' that he'd nearly had to take a cold shower when Emily went upstairs to change for the lake. Fortunately as he stood in the kitchen getting a drink of cold water, the reminder to himself that they were once again leaving the locked house to go back out into the world was enough to douse any thoughts about further activities with the lovely Miss Prentiss.

That was definitely a VERY fine idea she'd had though. It had been such a long time since he'd been in a relationship where he was happy and making out on the couch was a genuinely "fun" way to spend the day.

For months now with Haley it had been an activity that . . . to be brutally honest with himself . . . had become a little bit of a chore. But course he was a guy, and therefore not about to turn down an attractive woman who wanted to have sex.

And with Haley, foreplay generally started on the couch.

But . . . as awful as the thought was even in his own head . . . for the past six or seven months . . . perhaps since he'd graduated from the Academy . . . he'd generally let his mind wander during that stage. After that many years together he was completely on autopilot for all physical activities with Haley. He knew what she liked and what she didn't and he kept it to the basics so they could get to the big event.

And that was just not . . . him. He wasn't that guy. Making love was a beautiful thing, but he didn't love her anymore so it was just sex.

It felt good . . . but it didn't mean anything.

For him it was just impossible to emotionally engage in intimate activities when he no longer had any depth of feeling for her. And if anything, THAT should have been the point where he felt most connected with her again.

But he felt nothing.

It was just about attaining physical gratification for both of them. And as he thought about it now, he realized that he hadn't initiated sex with Haley in months. It was always her.

Huh.

Now he was starting to think that the woman would have had to have been rather blind to have not seen that _something_ was wrong. That breakup call couldn't have completely come out of the blue, because in the early years he'd barely been able to keep his hands off of her when they were alone.

His eyes snapped up as he heard a floorboard creak . . . kind of like how he felt now about the girl coming down the stairs. And as that girl suddenly appeared in front of him, he felt a grin spread across his face.

A red string bikini . . . EXCELLENT!

And next to the printing press, it was one of mankind's greatest inventions.

Aaron immediately bounded off the couch to meet her over at the stairs. And at that moment he realized he was definitely falling for her.

He certainly wasn't in love . . . it was too soon for that . . . but he was . . . well, 'in like'. He was in very serious 'like.'

Of course . . . he stepped up and kissed off Emily's freshly applied strawberry gloss from her swollen lips . . . he wouldn't have been cuddling and making out on the couch with her for the past two hours if he didn't have feelings for her.

But there was no longer any question mark . . . however faint . . . on whether he and Emily had a shot at having a real relationship. She leaned back and he smiled as she wiped her thumb along his lip.

They absolutely had a shot.

"Is that what you're wearing?" Emily's eyebrow rose in amusement as she looked over his same jeans and polo shirt, "are you secretly a vampire and unable to expose your flesh to the burning summer sun for fear you'll burst into flames?"

'Though he had spent a goodly amount of time sucking on her neck today so maybe the vampire thing wasn't so farfetched,' she thought with amusement.

His lips twitched as he looked down at his bare arms, and then back up at her, "well unless I'm wearing some sort of asbestos sun block I'd think my blood sucking days would be numbered pretty quickly if I walked around in short sleeves," then he huffed, "and there's nothing wrong with my outfit. Jeans and a polo shirt are perfectly acceptable lake attire."

She stared at him for a moment, trying to think of a way to get him to loosen up a little more. Yes, it was true that there was nothing WRONG with what he was wearing, but the point was to relax. Though she didn't actually expect to get him swimming, she'd hoped that he'd at least get a little sun.

But the way he was dressed now he could have been going to a GOP mixer.

As she stared at him she suddenly noticed how his eyes kept falling down to look at her bikini.

Given what a gentleman he was, that was not typical behavior for him. Not once had she ever had a problem with him talking to her chest rather than her face.

Therefore she deduced that he was quite fond of her new bikini. And that gave her an excellent idea.

She bit her lip to hide the involuntary smile before she jerked her thumb over her shoulder and said casually, "oh, well then I feel a little silly wearing this if you're going to wear that," she started to turn, "I'll just go pull on my jea . . ."

The last word wasn't even out of her mouth before Aaron yelped, "no! No, don't be silly," she turned back around to see him with a slightly panicked look on his face, "don't change, you look . . . nice."

Her eyebrow went up in amusement, "nice?"

Please! He was practically salivating, he could certainly do better than 'nice!'

Catching note of the teenage boy glitch in his voice, Aaron immediately manned up as he stepped forward, his hands falling to encircle her waist, "I meant to say that you look gorgeous," he smiled softly, "if we were going out to a public beach I'd be the envy of any other man on the sand," he tipped his head, "of course if we were going to a public beach I'd probably have to throw a quilt over you."

Emily giggled as she loosely wrapped her arms around his neck, "so I take it you like the bikini?" At his enthusiastic nod she responded with a soft smile, "I'm glad. I bought it last week just for you."

His eyes popped in surprise, "really? But we weren't . . ."

She winked, "not yet. But I was trying to loosen you up a little. I thought this might make a favorable impression."

Actually at the time she picked it up . . . on his day off . . . she'd thought that if this didn't get a reaction out of him nothing would.

His fingertips traced the edge of the little string on her right shoulder as he smiled, "oh this most _definitely_ makes a favorable impression."

And it was bought just for him. That made him ridiculously happy.

Actually the idea that he was the only man that had ever seen her in this outfit was enough to make him wish that they had already fastforwarded down the road a few months to more intimate activities.

But he was never one to look a gift horse in the mouth so as quibbles went, that was a very minor one.

His fingers moved down to ghost along the expanse of bare skin below her bikini top . . . he was _extremely_ happy with the gift that he had been given and had absolutely no desire to exchange it for anything else.

Trying to ignore the tingle that Aaron's touch was generating, Emily leaned in to give him a kiss.

It was so nice to do that now.

And as she pulled back slightly, she whispered, "could you please do me a favor and change into a pair of shorts," she pouted sadly, "with you completely covered, it makes me feel a little indecent."

Honestly, if he was going to be out there fully dressed and she was in a string bikini she was going to feel like a serious tease. Yes, she had bought this more for his enjoyment than her own . . . she'd already gotten a sufficient summer tan . . . but she'd hoped that maybe she could get him in swim trunks.

His expression softened, "you look beautiful Emily. There's nothing at all indecent about it," his lip quirked up slightly, "I just get to admire those lovely curves without all those pesky clothes getting in the way."

She gently smacked his chest and he winked at her before he nodded, "but if it would make you feel better, then yes, I think I do have a pair of shorts in my bag," he sighed, "I wasn't being deliberately . . . formal. I just obviously prefer jeans when I'm working," as he saw a flash of guilt on her face he shook his head, "no, though, you're right. It's just the two of us up here. And we're only walking twenty feet down to the water. I can consider this quasi work time."

As long as he had his gun that's all that really mattered.

Her brow wrinkled in concern, "are you sure? Because I wasn't thinking of it like that. You know, that you're working," she rolled her eyes, "I mean of course I know that you're 'working' but I hadn't thought of you being 'on duty.'"

It might have seemed a little silly to most people, but that was kind of a distinction in their world. Even if she wasn't becoming romantically involved with Aaron the principle would be true with any private bodyguard she had.

When you live with somebody twenty four hours a day you attain a certain degree of familiarity and comfort when you're inside the fortress. But then you walk out the door and that same person that you just had a cup of tea with will jump in front of a bullet for you.

On duty and off duty . . . different worlds.

Sometimes . . . like now . . . those lines would blur. And she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable either. If he'd feel better in pants then she'd just go pull on a pair of shorts.

He'd still get the bikini top and she wouldn't feel like some kind of . . . well, something not nice.

Aaron leaned forward and placed a quick kiss on her forehead, "nope, it's okay," he stepped back, "I'll be back in two minutes," he started to jog up the stairs but then he turned back to give her a look, "you stay inside until I get back, okay?"

Though he posed it as a question to be polite, they both knew that there was only one correct response.

So she of course nodded and said, "of course," she tipped her head towards the kitchen, "I'll get a couple sodas for us to take with us and then I'll grab my beach towel from the mudroom."

He shot her a dimple, "sounds good," and then ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

Emily sighed as he disappeared off the landing, and then she turned and started towards the kitchen.

'_Well, at least today I'm getting to see his legs. Maybe tomorrow I can think of some reason to get his shirt off.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: I wasn't planning on kissing here, not on Saturday anyway, but it is a very short story and for God's sake H/P can't kiss in like ANY world I have going except CB and I didn't have one of those ready to go up today. And the kissing scene cheered me up so I wrote it. I thought it worked though. The kissing was the real distraction for him, he gets it out of the way, no more distraction. And Emily also very kindly pointed out to him that there's just no way he can transfer out for the last two weeks so they might as well just go with it. Smart girl :)_

_See guys, don't worry about it, Emily's working on getting his shirt off. So Chiroho, hopefully I at least made you happy with Emily's string bikini. And ladies, I would have gotten his shirt off too (if anyone needs some sun it's probably Aaron Hotchner), but Emily decided she wanted to make out on the couch. What would you have preferred doing? Exactly._

_In case it's not obvious, given their relationship sort of started in the middle, I've been inserting the el flashbackos into el GRANDE flashbacko. So that it will be clear that Aaron's not just jumping from Haley to Emily like in 24 hrs. The first relationship had died out completely, and that's becoming more and more apparent to him as he compares these 'new car smell' feelings he has for Emily against the prior activities with Haley. Not to mention, he'd been falling for Emily in a thousand different ways over the past couple weeks and just now is he able to actually embrace those feelings that he's been suppressing. _

_And clearly Aaron/Hotch are characters that feel things deeply. And without all the trauma of "Hotch", I think Aaron, once he lets someone into his world, is very much a 'heart on his sleeve' guy. _

_If you picked up on his derisive dismissal of profiling, that wasn't just an inside joke. I'm honestly not sure if I'll let this version of him join the BAU. I'm not even sure if I'll let this version of Emily join the FBI. I like them happier and well adjusted. It would seem rather bittersweet if I put them on that path knowing what horrible things they'd see and how messed up that would make them. And I do plan on staying with them long enough to find out where their careers go. I believe 'someone' has set me up with activities for them into like November 1994 ;)_

_It is funny writing their thoughts here (as opposed to adult versions of them) because you might have picked up that they are sort of more casual in their language (I'm not just being lazy :), and less sure of themselves than when they're older. Like adult Hotch, he would have known immediately that giving Emily a loaded handgun was a bad idea. But youngster Aaron had to stumble a few times before he realized that he wasn't qualified to 'fix her' on his own. And it's funny, it wasn't until I went to put the gun in her hand that I realized how STUPID that would be! The girl's freaking out over a thunderstorm, what the hell's a gunshot going to do to her!? So yeah, they need a little professional advice first before they take the next step there.  
_

_Also, here I'm trying to show that Emily is not the same version of herself that she grows into in canon. Like her reaction to failing to overcome her phobia about the guns in one morning. She was much more sanguine and accepting of the situation than I would have written canon Emily. She would have been beating herself up over not just sucking it up and dealing with her issue. But this Emily doesn't have the confidence issues so she's more accepting of her own flaws (not that a handgun phobia after an attempted assassination of your mother is a 'flaw')._

_I'm starting to get back into the swing of integrating this story into the balance of a few other things. So this will keep rolling along, maybe three or four more chapters, plus Girl (got most of the Em/Morgan day after convo done) and I FINALLY got chapter 2 of A Wrinkle in Time out of the notebook and into the computer. I expect that will get up shortly. And I haven't forgotten about Communication Breakdown. I have most of the rest of that done, it's just the next sequential chapter I'm missing completely so I'll aim to get that banged out over the next week or so._


	8. Common Ground

**Author's Note**: Continuation of the same day. And a reminder that this is a totally AU world so I completely changed their backgrounds because I thought they better suited the way they are here.

* * *

**Common Ground**

That night Emily curled up in her pajamas and watched contentedly as Aaron built another fire for her.

They'd had a good day. Though the day certainly had not gone as she'd planned. The good deviation of course being the morning spent making out on the couch. But then even when got to the lake, they hadn't ended up staying down by the water very long.

Even though it was just the two of them for miles, she still knew that Aaron couldn't turn off that 'protection mode' in his brain. It was obvious that no matter how hard he tried to pretend like it was okay, he had a certain degree of base unease simply being out and exposed.

The lake and the house were 'safe' but the woods basically encircled them and she knew that he would have killed for a pair of X-ray glasses to see between the trees.

So after an hour of watching him alternate between staring at her sunbathing, and cautiously eying the woods, she decided they'd have much more fun inside. She'd closed her book, jumped up and grabbed his hand.

"Let's go watch a movie."

Of course he'd smirked as he asked if that was anything like "watching television." And she'd winked as she'd told him, "maybe if you play your cards right."

But mostly they actually did really _watch_ television. There was a marathon of old noir movies on the local station. That wasn't generally her thing, but Aaron liked them so she decided to give them a try. She liked most of them, and _The Asphalt Jungle_ was really good, so they both had a good time basically just sitting around together doing nothing.

Not to say that when they'd taken a snack break that he hadn't also pinned her against the wall in the kitchen and kissed her until her toes curled, because he'd most definitely done that too.

But mostly they just snuggled on the couch.

Now that his lap had become a seating option, it was definitely the best seat in the house. Sadly though, the lap sitting, like the sunbathing, was another activity that they had to cut short prematurely.

That was her own fault though. They'd gone right from the lake to the couch with no stop upstairs for her to change clothes. So after a half hour of her in his lap in the red string bikini, he'd suddenly shifted her to the side and said sheepishly, "as much as it pains me to say it, I think either you have to put on some more clothes or I have to move to the arm chair."

She'd started to blush profusely.

It hadn't occurred to her that the string bikini would be THAT much of a distraction. At that point she'd been sitting in his lap with him running his palm along the outside of her thigh for twenty minutes or so. It had felt really nice, but he hadn't been doing anything that _she_ considered sexual (of course what the hell did she know about foreplay) so it hadn't occurred to her that her state of undress might be causing a problem for him. Which was really pretty stupid as soon as she'd thought about it.

And more than a little bit embarrassing.

But it was embarrassing for both of them really, because she had seen the tinge of pink on his cheeks as well. And she'd shifted over to the couch as she said sheepishly, "sorry, I wasn't thinking." And he'd of course tried to make her feel better as he shook his head and told her, "no, no don't be sorry Emily. I LOVE the bikini, and I love seeing you in the bikini," then he'd squeezed her hands as he'd added drolly, "but having you sit around in my lap with two scraps of fabric held on with a couple of strings probably wasn't my brightest move."

She'd given him a little smile and then had run upstairs during the next commercial to pull on a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. Once she was dressed less like an extra from that new Baywatch show, she'd joined him on the couch again. Though the second time she'd settled for just curling up at his side.

Though she wasn't yet 'intimately' acquainted with his equipment, she knew enough to know that things didn't always settle down right away. And God knows that she hadn't wanted a repeat of that awkwardness.

But cuddling at his side was really good too, she just liked being near him.

Though she honestly had no, well for lack of a better word, "logical" reason for her growing feelings for him. She knew that he was an FBI Agent, and she knew that he was a nice, sweet guy who could make a really good omelet and was an incredibly bad breaker upper. But in terms of 'facts' about his life, she knew very little beyond those things.

Though in the alternative, he really knew very little about her either.

For all the things she chattered about to fill the air, she didn't talk that much about herself. So yes, he might have had a few more factoids about her than she did about him . . . having a copy of the family bio helped . . . but she really didn't know exactly what it was about her that he actually liked.

She honestly didn't even know if they had anything in common. And that was worrying her a little bit so she figured they might as well start with the basics.

"So where did you grow up?" she asked as he shoved another piece of newspaper under the logs.

"Well," Aaron shot her a glance over his shoulder, "my father was in the Marines so we traveled a little bit. Not as much as you probably did though," he continued talking as he turned back to the fire, "I was born in Virginia. But my dad was deployed for two tours in Vietnam when I was just a baby. Though those aren't really years you remember much anyway, so I have no conscious memory of him being gone. When he got home, he almost immediately got a transfer to Germany. We spent two years there, then a year in Japan before we came back to the States and did a year in California. But all the moving around was getting hard on my mother so he requested a transfer back east. And he'd moved high enough up the chain, and had built up enough cache after another tour in Vietnam, that they actually did honor his request. So from that point on we were in Virginia again. First he was stationed out of Quantico and then he got transferred to the Pentagon," he shot her a quick smile, "so as military brats went I had a lot more stability than most."

Emily pulled her knees up in front of her, "so what did your dad do specifically?"

If he was able to get himself stationed out of DC for that many years she figured it was something important.

"Uh," he cleared his throat, "he was a field commander and now he does tactical planning. He also teaches a couple classes up in Annapolis."

It was always a little embarrassing to tell people who his father was. Like he was bragging or something. Though as he thought about it Emily was probably the only person he'd ever met who could one up him on this front.

Her eyes widened, "wait, is your dad _General _Hotchner?" she asked in surprise.

The General, back when he was a colonel, had been in command of forces on the ground during the fall of Saigon. That was apparently the other "tour" Aaron was referring to.

Talk about downplaying!

He nodded, "yep, he wasn't too pleased when I decided on Harvard rather than the Naval Academy but he seems okay with my choices now."

If you were a male Hotchner and didn't have a job that involved carrying a gun then the job didn't really count. But fortunately Aaron also had his father's predilection for action, he just didn't want to sign his life away to the government. Of course the FBI also owned his ass, but he could technically walk away from them at any time. You can't just walk away from the Marines.

Not unless you want to get blindfolded and shot.

Emily raised her eyebrow, "so did your mom work at all during that time?"

Given her mother's career it was always weird to hear about families where the mothers stayed home. Though she knew that was the norm for her generation, it just wasn't a world that she could relate to. But it was nice to know that Aaron had also done a fair bit of world traveling as a kid.

Though clearly his family had run in very different circles than hers had.

As he stood up, Aaron brushed himself off and shook his head, "no, she never worked. She was a traditional cookie baking, meatloaf making, meet you at the front door and ask you how your day was' mom," his lip quirked up, "though she was Miss Georgia 1962. A top ten finalist for Miss America too, at least according to my dad."

His father loved to brag about that. Of course if he was married to a genuine beauty queen he might do a bit of bragging too.

Emily's face lit up, "was she!? That's so cool!"

Aaron walked back over and dropped down next to her on the couch, "yeah, it was kind of cool," his eyes crinkled, "definitely always had the prettiest mom on the block," he smiled, "still do actually."

Which reminded him, he needed to call his mom when they got home to tell her he wouldn't be over Wednesday. Given that had been his one day off each week that was designated "good son day." But Wednesday had been temporarily renamed "awkward official breakup with Haley day" and he wouldn't be able to do both. He needed to tell his mother about the breakup too. Not that he thought she'd be particularly disappointed. She was always nice to Haley, but he was pretty sure that the younger woman's ultra feminism had chafed his mother a bit. For one thing Haley wasn't a fan of beauty pageants. She thought they objectified women. She was of course too polite to ever flat out say that to his mom, but she had accidentally blurted something one day about Miss America being an airhead and, though she'd immediately apologized, his mother hadn't forgotten it.

So no, no it was safe to say his mother would _not_ be sad at the loss of Haley as a potential daughter-in-law.

Emily stared at him for a second before she asked her next question, "siblings?"

"Yep," he nodded, "one sister, one brother, younger and older respectively. My brother Sean went to West Point, he's a Ranger now stationed out of Ft. Benning. And Julia she's um," his expression softened slightly as he paused, "well, she's still figuring stuff out."

Emily watched the way his eyes shifted and she debated asking another question. This was the first time he'd talked about his family and she didn't know if that was something he was comfortable doing.

After all, given that she didn't KNOW anything about them, she didn't know if they were a touchy subject in general.

Finally she decided being direct would be the best approach. So she rubbed his arm and asked softly, "I'm sorry, am I being too nosy?"

"Huh," Aaron's eyes snapped back to hers, "oh no," he shook his head, "not at all. I was just thinking," a hint of sadness touched his smile, "it's just, you know, she's my little sister and I worry."

He worried a lot actually, but that was his job. Really he just wished she lived closer so he could see for himself how she was doing.

Talking on the phone once a week wasn't a good enough indicator for him.

"Is she in school?"

His reverie was interrupted by Emily's question and he nodded, "yeah, now she is but she'd taken a year off," he huffed humorlessly, "we don't do that in my family, you know? 'Find ourselves.' My parents didn't understand."

His jaw twitched slightly as he thought about his sister crying on his shoulder last Christmas. He loved his parents but they had always been too hard on Julia. His mom thought she should find a "nice boy and settle down" and his dad, well he actually was one of the few vocal supporters of women in the military. Just like with Aaron, he thought a military career was the way to go for her. And then when she not only didn't do THAT, but told them that she needed to "leave school to find her path," Aaron had seriously thought his father was going to have a stroke right there in the kitchen.

Realizing that his pause just now was rather lengthy, and that Emily was probably waiting for a more complete answer to what he'd just said, he looked over at her.

"Julia had a bit of a rough time for awhile but I think she's doing better now. She called me last week and told me she'd picked her courses for the fall. She seemed happy. She changed her major to molecular biology and I think that's made the difference."

"What was she before?" Emily asked with curiosity.

Of course she had a genuine curiosity about his family, but it was also interesting seeing him like this. More, well, she wasn't quite sure what it was . . . vulnerable maybe. Though he'd definitely dropped his professional armor around her, this was the first time she really felt like he was completely exposed.

"Pre-med," he answered, "she's wanted to be a doctor since she was ten years old. And she's certainly got the brains for it but I just think it was too much pressure."

Emily's eyes widened in surprise, "but isn't molecular biology a really hard course load too?"

Personally she had NO patience for the 'scientific method' and gritted her teeth every time she had to pick out her math/science core requirements.

"Eh," he tipped his head, "it's not the courses, it's the people. She's brilliant but she's very shy. But now she's decided that lab research would be a better fit for her," he sighed, "I just worry that she's not going to be happy because she won't be doing what she really wants to do."

Seeing the concern on his face, Emily's own expression softened. Then she leaned over, kissing his cheek before she rubbed his knee and whispered, "you're a good big brother."

She'd often wished for an older brother or sister, somebody that she could go to if she had a problem. Her world had always been so isolated. A sibling would have made things easier.

But . . . she thought sadly . . . that wasn't in the cards for them.

His eyes crinkled slightly as he turned to look at her, "thanks," then he moved back to the corner of the couch and pulled his legs up to stretch out. Emily immediately moved over to climb into his lap, leaning back against his chest as he wrapped his arms around her waist and rested his chin on her shoulder.

And again his world was filled with the scent of roses.

They sat quietly watching the fire for a moment before he asked quietly, "it's just you and your parents, right? I didn't see any other siblings mentioned in the file."

It was a little strange knowing things about a girl before she actually told them to you.

"Yeah, it's just us," she said softly. And then she paused for a moment before she added, "but I was almost a big sister."

There was another pause and Aaron was just about to ask what she meant when she said softly.

"My mother got pregnant again when I was seven and she went to term, but . . .," she cleared her throat, "the baby was stillborn."

Even though she was just a child at the time, Emily still remembered the sadness of those days. Everyone had been so excited about that baby, and the loss had just been devastating.

Next to the shooting, that was the worst time in her family's life. Her mother cried for weeks. And her father . . . well, it was obvious that he didn't know what to do with himself. Emily remembered that he took her for a lot of walks.

Aaron winced as his hand rubbed unconsciously across her stomach, "God, that's awful."

Jesus, he wasn't even sure yet if he wanted kids, but he sure as hell couldn't imagine losing one.

And certainly not like that.

That moment when your child's born is supposed to be the happiest in your life. But instead they had the rugged pulled out from under them.

Her poor parents.

And they had turned out a fabulous girl like Emily . . . he nuzzled her neck . . . so clearly they had to be good people. Not that such a tragedy befalling not nice people would have been okay. But it just made it more unsettling to be reminded that there was no karmic rhyme or reason to these things.

Emily nodded, her cheek brushing against his, "yeah it was just awful. We knew it was a girl and they'd picked out a name of course . . . Catherine Marie," she was quiet for a second, "they'd decorated the nursery in Winnie the Pooh," she bit her lip, "it was my idea. Daddy let me help him put the border on the wall."

To this day whenever she thought of Winnie the Pooh she thought of dead babies. If she ever got therapy for anything, it was going to be that.

Feeling the sadness bleeding off the girl in his arms, Aaron kissed her cheek before he pulled her back more securely against his chest.

What a shit thing to happen. And the bitch of it was he knew that it happened all the time. That was his worry . . . that was why he wasn't sure if he wanted to have children.

Sometimes they died.

He'd seen some terrible things in the DA's office. Horrible tragedies that he didn't understand how people ever move passed.

But Aaron didn't really want to find out how they moved passed them. He didn't want to be one of those people.

Emily cleared her throat, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to totally bring down the room," she rubbed the arm that was wrapped around her waist, "think of something happier to talk about."

He was quiet for a minute before he whispered, "which do you prefer, puppies or kittens?"

Her eyes crinkled as she whispered back, "both. But I like cats better than dogs. You?"

"Sorry, I have to go with puppies," his nose wrinkled slightly, "I'm not a big fan of cats."

Haley had a cat and the cat hated him. He had some bad scars from that damn calico.

Emily rolled her eyes as she turned to look at him incredulously, "you hate baby kittens? How is that even possible?"

"Uh," he huffed indignantly, "I never said I HATED baby kittens," he scowled at her, "who am I Hitler? I just 'prefer' puppies. That was the question Emily, _prefer_. Not, which would you rather see drowned in the river."

Her eyebrow quivered at his rant before she said flatly, "if you ever asked me what I'd prefer to see 'drowned in the river,' I think I'd be seriously worrying you were Ted Bundy or something."

Serial killers . . . she shuddered . . . creepy.

Feeling her shiver, Aaron's exasperation immediately faded as he realized that he'd upset her. He immediately kissed her cheek and whispered, "I'm sorry, I get a little worked up sometimes. That analogy was obviously over the top."

_God Aaron, you were trying to move the conversation off dead babies and you moved it to dead kittens and serial killers! Why don't you just pull a gun on the girl if you're trying to scare the crap out of her?_

Emily's expression softened as Aaron began stroking his fingers along her stomach.

It was a gentle touch, barely a whisper on her skin. But it was sweet, and it made her feel . . . well, she hadn't decided on a word yet.

Maybe it was too soon to even know what that word would be.

But she was starting to be able to read him, and she saw that the action was an apology. Not that she'd really thought that he was inclined to drown baby kittens in the river, it was just the associated inference that had creeped her out. But maybe she was just being too sensitive. So she turned her head and kissed him, "it's okay, I'm not upset with you," she gave him a little smile, "I know you aren't going to chop me up into little pieces."

His expression darkened as he shook his head, "don't joke about that, okay? I can't . . . I don't . . ."

He didn't know how to finish that sentence. All he knew was that the thought of her being in any way hurt was unthinkable. That was his worst nightmare right now.

That he'd let her down and whoever sliced up that picture of her face would come back and do it again on a live canvas.

Seeing that she'd actually rattled him, Emily groaned internally . . . good job Em. Clearly black humor had not been the way to go there.

She shifted her body so she could wrap her arms around his neck before she whispered, "I'm sorry. You're right. Given the circumstances under which we met, that was definitely in very poor taste."

God, they just kept sticking their feet into their mouths tonight!

Though as she thought about it she realized that this was really the first time they tried to talk, talk. In the past it was always her chattering and him restraining his eyeroll. Or more recently they'd started to banter and joke. But tonight was the first time they'd ever really had a serious conversation where they just tried to get to know each other.

Maybe they were screwing up because they were nervous. Maybe he . . . like she . . . was subconsciously worried that maybe they would get to know each other and then discover they didn't have anything to talk about.

And that would be that.

Here . . . she sighed against his shoulder . . . she had this fabulous guy who she really wanted to be with, but she still didn't know if they had ANYTHING in common!

Well, they were both intelligent, had traveled when they were kids, and had a good sense of humor. But was that enough?

Her brow wrinkled . . . probably not.

Well, she bit back a pout . . . she needed to find something tonight or she was going to get seriously depressed. What if their little bubble was going to burst? What if when they went back to their regular lives he didn't want to spend time with her anymore?

That would be just awful.

So she hugged him tightly as she tried to think of just one thing that meant something to her that she thought might mean something to him. Finally she had one.

She turned her head slightly to press her lips to his ear, "do you like U2?"

That was like the biggest band of their generation. He HAD to like U2!

Sensing that this one was not a casual inquiry, Aaron nodded slowly, "I wore out my first cassette of The Joshua Tree."

She tipped her head back and looked at him hopefully, "really?"

That was her favorite band. If they had music in common that was something important. That was something they could talk about.

Seeing her eyes light up, he realized that she was excited. Why was she excited that he liked U2?

Then he ran down the last ten minutes of their conversation and he realized that they'd been fumbling a bit.

She was looking for common ground.

Now he felt even worse about their missteps, but he at least knew how to make her feel better. So he leaned in and whispered conspiratorially, "you know what I like almost as much as U2? Chocolate chip cookies."

Emily leaned back and gave him a big smile, "me too."

Okay . . . he was officially the best.

He gave her a soft kiss before he tucked her hair back, "yeah, but did I tell you the best chocolate chip cookies I ever had were the ones you baked last Tuesday?"

That was a fact. He wasn't just saying it to be nice.

Tears pricked her eyes as she whispered back, "really?"

He kissed her once more before he whispered against her lips, "really truly. You're the best cookie maker around."

As he leaned back she gave him a watery smile and a shy "thanks." And he immediately felt a burst of warmth in his heart.

Again . . . though it was still just a stage of like . . . a smitten stage . . . he couldn't envision a scenario where he would have any desire to walk away from her.

There was a sweet, kind, smart, funny girl sitting in his lap. How would he not be better off with a person like that in his life?

His fingers tangled in her silky locks as he looked into her eyes, "I know what you're thinking and you don't have to worry that we'll discover we have nothing in common. I like you very much Miss Prentiss," his lip quirked up, "perhaps we'll find out that the only thing we have in common is chocolate chip cookies and the color of our hair. Or maybe we'll find out that we have a thousand things in common," he shook his head, "I don't think it matters. I think we seem compatible. Do you agree?"

Aaron knew that Emily was new at this so her concern was understandable. But really, he and Haley superficially had _very_ little in common and they'd been together for six years. And they'd been happy for most of that time.

Though he didn't think that bringing up his ex-girlfriend would really be his wisest move at the moment.

He might have made a few missteps with women this weekend but he did know that talking about a prior woman while holding the current one in his lap was a big no, no.

Emily nodded as she wiped the corner of her eye, "I do."

"Okay," he flashed a dimple at her, "then I don't want you to worry anymore. Whatever this is, it will not rise or fall based on whether you keep the ketchup in the cabinet or the fridge."

"Cabinet," she shot back immediately and he grinned.

"Look at that, black hair, chocolate chip cookies and ketchup storage, we're on a roll!"

She laughed and kissed him again before she rested her head on his shoulder, "okay, what else can we talk about?"

They stayed up until well after midnight talking about their lives. And actually they discovered they had quite a few things in common. Politics . . . both of their families were Regan Republicans . . . music . . . U2, INXS and Springsteen were some major overlaps . . . food . . . given their exposure to other cultures, they both were fairly adventurous in their culinary tastes . . . and religion . . . both went to church regularly, though Emily was Catholic and Aaron was Lutheran. All of that taken together was enough for Emily to start feeling really good about their chances of building something together.

Though she was admittedly a little bit worried about him joining Hostage Rescue . . . it sounded very dangerous . . . but it was obvious how much he wanted the position so she made sure to limit her comments to a non committal, "that sounds interesting," and moved on to the next thing. It certainly wasn't her place to be inserting her two cents into his decisions. Well, not now anyway.

Besides though, his desire to do that work was a part of who he was. And she didn't want to be the type of girlfriend . . . now that she was taking on that role . . . that tried to change her guy into something he wasn't.

From what she'd seen those relationships always ended. And they always ended badly.

Not that she was like picking out wedding china or anything, that would clearly be creepy and insane. But she didn't want to go into this making poor choices right from the beginning that were going to _guarantee_ an unhappy ending.

Just because she was new at this didn't mean she was stupid.

It was almost one when he walked her to her bedroom door and he kissed her good night. First on the lips and then on the forehead, before he pulled her into a hug and told her that he had the best day he'd had in a long time.

And she smiled a little tearily against his chest as she thought to herself, _'yep, things were going really well.'_

* * *

_A/N 2: I was going to send this to somebody to check a particular point I put in here but I didn't get a chance to. So if you know who sees any problems with the you know what, just give me a shout ;)_

_When my sister was pregnant back in like '82 I think, I remember her going to the base clinic and there was a woman there who was due at the same time and then as the due date approached my sister ran into her in the waiting room and asked how things were going. The baby was dead but she was so close to term that she had to carry the fetus until her body decided it was to be born. It wasn't like today where they could do some sort of inducement or "procedure". That was almost thirty years ago. And though I was quite young I remember that was just an awful story and it stuck with me._

_Hotch/Aaron is definitely a Republican in all worlds. Here I thought it would be interesting to make Emily one too. But they're "Regan Republicans" and if you live in America you know that's a certain type of conservative and I thought it would work for both of them.  
_

_I'm winding this down. They're now to Sunday and I'll be wrapping it on that day in their world. Though I will be picking up with them pretty shortly. I think rather than continuing this one out, a new ongoing story would probably be better. It will probably be called The Gingerbread House.  
_

_That little green button folks, it's right there in the middle of the screen and it really does keep all the muses alive.  
_


	9. The One Before the End

**Author's Note**: Finally, Gingerbread!

This one is for Baobei and if anyone's been looking for this story, you can all thank her for gently nudging me to put it back on the frontburner.

Given that I haven't updated this since 12/29 (I couldn't believe that!) I'm figuring you'll have to go back and refresh your memory as to what was happening. And once you're done with that I'll tell you that this chapter picks up a few hours after we left them going to bed.

Originally I had planned on wrapping this up in just one more chapter, but I've decided to do it in two, for reasons that will become apparent in the second one. And given that I _was_ planning on wrapping it in one, I decided the "Friends" style of naming things worked best so we're going with the most obvious title ever.

**

* * *

The One Before the End**

Emily bolted upright in bed.

OH GOD!

The scream caught in her throat as her hands ran frantically over her face, trying to stop the bleeding.

No Em . . . she tried to calm herself . . . no, it was just a dream. Just a . . . a shudder ran through her body . . . just a horrible, _horrible_ dream.

Unfortunately this was not the first time that she'd had this particular horrible dream.

The one where the man with the straight razor screams "WHORE!" right before he slashes her across the face.

This had happened probably a half a dozen times since the threat had arrived. And because they still didn't know who had sent the note, her subconscious had no details to draw upon in her nightmares.

So the man in her dreams never had a face.

It made it worse somehow, like he was some horror movie boogeyman. A mythical creature that couldn't be stopped by conventional law enforcement.

Emily moaned as she pushed herself back against the headboard . . . yeah, that wasn't the brightest thought to focus on in the semi-darkness surrounding her.

She took a breath, holding it for a second before she slowly exhaled. Then she bit her lip.

The house was much too quiet.

Though she loved coming out here, the one huge downside to the lodge right now was that there was nothing to distract her from the horrible images in her mind. At least when this dream had hit her at her parents' house she had woken up to hear the traffic, the horns, the regular city noises that set her at ease.

It reminded her of normality, that the images were just pictures in her mind. Right now things didn't feel normal though.

She felt isolated and alone.

And given that there were no external stimuli to focus on, for a few minutes Emily tried just going with a mind over matter approach. Continuing with the deep breaths as she clutched the sweat dampened sheet between her clammy fingers.

It didn't work.

The fact that that she was alone in a house with as much background noise as a coffin wasn't helping her stress levels.

Then she remembered that she wasn't really alone. Yes, she was physically by herself but Aaron was right next door.

She wasn't sure about waking him up though.

Though she had gone into his room for the thunderstorm, that was different. That was an ongoing situation and she was completely freaking out.

But a bad dream was something else . . . it came and went. The end had already passed and she should be strong and move on from it. She should put it behind her.

Because that's what Prentiss' did.

Unfortunately she couldn't just put it behind her because this nightmare was hanging around. Even though she was awake and she knew that the terrible images in her head were just manufactured by her imagination, it wasn't making them any less real.

And though it pained her to admit it even to herself . . . she was scared of that boogeyman. It wasn't hard to imagine him stalking her out in the countryside. After all, that's where the boogeyman always showed up.

When you were out in the woods.

She leaned against the headboard for another minute before taking a breath and pushing back the sheet . . . he had told her that he wanted her to wake him up for anything.

Hopefully he'd really meant it.

Emily quietly circled out of her room and around into Aaron's. One thing that she was relieved about was that unlike last night, with their new romantic relationship she didn't have to stand in his doorway like some weirdo stalker.

So once she'd stepped over the threshold, Emily started immediately across his bedroom.

But then she unexpectedly stopped short when she saw him lying there sleeping in the glow of the little nightlight.

She'd never climbed into bed with a man before.

Before Aaron she hadn't actually been in the position for the situation to even come up. And though they had slept together on the couch, that was different.

More innocent.

This though . . . she took a breath . . . this was grown up. So Emily stood there for a second as she tried to mentally adjust to this new way of living her life.

As an adult.

Unfortunately though, her simple pause had done more than just given her a second to steel her nerve . . . it started her thinking. She began worrying that Aaron would forget that she wasn't ready to go all the way yet. That he might think that she was climbing into his bed at three something in the morning because she had changed her mind and wanted to have sex with him.

Really though, that's why most girls her age would be visiting their new extremely attractive boyfriends in the middle of the night.

But . . . she bit her lip worriedly . . . she wasn't most girls. As much as she liked him, she wasn't ready to sleep with him yet. And that was going to be VERY awkward if she had to have that no sex conversation with him again.

Actually it would probably be even more embarrassing to have to do it under the covers than it was when they were just talking on the couch.

Oh geez . . . she started to feel a bit of panic . . . now what should she do? She didn't want to go back to her own room, but she didn't want him to think that she was a big tease either.

As Emily stood there nervously chewing on her lip, debating next steps, suddenly Aaron rolled over in his sleep. It was the first time she could clearly see his face illuminated in the small yellow glow.

And seeing his handsome features immediately pushed away her worries about what he would think.

She realized then that it was stupid to be so nervous. Because not only was she not just any girl, but he wasn't just any guy.

This was Aaron.

He was a gentleman. That's part of what attracted her to him. He was sweet and nice and he was the one that told her to never feel pressured to do something that she didn't want to do.

Her eyes started to sting . . . he said that if a guy really liked her that he'd stay with her no matter what.

Okay . . . she blinked the moisture away . . . so he definitely wasn't going to think that her climbing into bed with him meant that she was leading him on or anything like that. Her eyes dropped down to her gauzy cotton nightgown . . . he wasn't going to expect anything physically more from her now than what had happened between them already.

Once Emily had completely convinced herself that Aaron wasn't going to try to ravish her like one of the heroes in her cheesy bodice ripping Harlequin romances, she slowly let out her breath and crossed the rest of the way to the bed. Then she leaned down and whispered his name.

"Aaron."

His eyes snapped open directly onto hers.

"What's wrong?" His voice was scratchy as he sat up and looked around blearily, "another storm."

No . . . he listened . . . everything seemed quiet. Then he saw Emily giving him a nervous smile.

"No, no storm. Um," she stammered slightly, "I had a nightmare. Could I . . . uh . . ."

And she couldn't quite get the rest out.

It's not that she was still nervous about his reaction . . . she'd dealt with that concern . . . it was just that as she began to utter the words aloud, she realized how asinine she sounded.

She wanted to know if she could sleep with him because she had a bad dream.

It made her sound so foolish, like she was a small child who couldn't distinguish fact from fiction. Especially true given that she had finally left her bed when she acknowledged to herself that she was afraid of the boogey man in her dreams.

The boogey man.

God . . . she felt a wave of embarrassment . . . she'd rather die than to say than that aloud to anyone, even him.

She immediately straightened up and started to shake her head.

"You know what, never . . ."

But then her voice faltered again when he reached out and took her hand. His expression softening as he asked quietly, "you want to sleep with me?"

Their eyes locked for a moment as she considered the tone of his voice . . . no derision, no annoyance . . . so she nodded slowly.

"Um, yes . . . please," she whispered haltingly, "if you don't mind."

Though a moment ago she was ready to leave, looking into those warm brown eyes all she could see there was concern and affection. All of her worries about what he'd think of her faded away.

Just being with him made her feel better.

Aaron's eyes crinkled at the nerves he could hear in Emily's voice.

"Of course I don't mind," he said with a soft smile as he lifted up his blanket. "Come on," he shifted back on the mattress, "plenty of room."

Though he was sorry for the tension he could see on her face, he was at least relieved that she'd come to him. That she'd seen that his offer to wake him if something was wrong had been sincere.

A relieved smile graced Emily's lips as she climbed in next to him.

"Thanks," she whispered as Aaron pulled the sheet and light blanket back up again.

"No problem," Aaron murmured back as he gave her a soft look. And she knew then that he was letting her decide what she wanted to do . . . if she wanted to move closer or just stay on her own side of the bed.

She felt a wave of affection for him that resulted in her pressing an impulsive kiss to his cheek.

As she'd hoped, just because she'd come to him in the middle of the night, he had no expectations of her. So she moved over and curled up at his side like she had downstairs on the couch.

Once Aaron thought that Emily was comfortable, he wrapped his arm around her shoulders and leaned down to kiss the top of her head.

"Do you want to tell me about your dream?" he whispered in the semi-dark.

If it was upsetting enough to not only wake her up, but then KEEP her up and drive her into his room, it must have been pretty traumatizing.

"Um," her hand slowly moved up to rest on his stomach, "it's just the same nightmare I've been having since the threat came. You know, since I saw the photo with the uh," she cleared her throat, "slash marks. I'm out in public, it feels like downtown and I'm in a crowd, and suddenly I hear my name. Then I turn and there's a man there." Her voice started to get strained, "and even though he's right in front of me, he has no face."

The last word came out pinched and louder than the rest. And Emily stopped for a second to get her emotions under control. She immediately felt Aaron press a kiss to her temple and she felt that little wave of panic roll back again.

So she took another breath.

"And before I know what's happening he uh . . ." she swallowed, "uh slashes me across the face with a razor. It happens again and again and I'm screaming but nobody helps me, nobody stops him, and then," she slowly exhaled, "then I wake up." She was silent for a second before she came back more firmly, "I know it's stupid but I'm always touching my face when I wake up. Trying to make sure there's no blood."

Before Aaron could respond she continued matter of factly.

"It's a straight razor. It's always a straight razor, you know like the kind they used to use in barber shops. Like in that movie _The Untouchables._"

That's probably where she got the image. Not that the added detail was going to help Aaron catch her would be assailant. But for some reason she felt the need to clarify the weapon for him.

Really though . . . her fingers twisted in his t-shirt . . . a straight razor was a very disturbing weapon. Somehow it was even worse than just a knife. Anyone could get a knife, it was a weapon of convenience. But somebody had to seek out the blade that she was seeing in her assailant's hand.

Dream creation or not . . . it was still unsettling.

Hearing the slight quiver in Emily's voice as she recounted the nightmarish assault, Aaron had felt a wave of sympathy for her.

Poor thing. No wonder she was still up.

Once he was sure that she was done, that she'd gotten it all out, he kissed her temple again before he whispered back what he hoped were reassuring words that would help her sleep.

"You know," he said softly, "that most likely the person who sent that threat is just some crackpot. He just saw that one picture in the magazine and he doesn't know you or where you live. Hell, he could be out in Timbuktu for all we know. But besides that though," his fingers ran slowly along her arm, feeling the soft, flowy material of her nightgown, "even if he's not in Timbuktu, you know that I'm with you all the time. And nothing bad is going to happen to you as long as I'm around," he squeezed her tightly for a second, "right?"

Part of him worried that these dreams were coming to her because . . . on some level . . . she didn't believe that he could truly protect her. And though he knew that she couldn't control her subconscious any more than he could control his, that still bothered him.

That he hadn't done enough to assure Emily that he could take of her, that she was always safe with him.

Hopefully that wasn't the case though. Hopefully this was just a bad dream. Because if those things were true . . . and they were going to have any kind of personal relationship when this was all over . . . that was something he would need to work on.

Emily's eyes crinkled slightly as she looked up and nodded at him, "right."

This is why she'd come to him.

When she was here lying with him as he whispered in her ear, all of her fears . . . dream based fears especially . . . seemed so silly. If somebody smashed through the door right now, she knew that Aaron's gun was under the pillow. And when they were out it was on his hip, so if somebody tried to come after her with a blade she knew exactly what the outcome would be.

Live federal agent = dead attacker.

And that's because gun beat razor every day of the week.

Aaron winked back at her, "smart girl. Now," he moved his hand up to stroke his fingers through her hair, "if you think you can sleep now why don't you close your eyes. I'm right here and I'm not going anywhere.

Emily stared at him for a moment before using his chest to leverage herself up and give him a kiss.

Then she ran her fingers along his cheek as she whispered, "thank you for not making me feel stupid."

His eyes widened in surprise, "Emily, no matter what happened, I would never think that you were stupid. You're one of the smartest people I've ever met," he pulled her down into another kiss before murmuring against her lips, "and there's no shame in being frightened of a bad dream," he pulled back slightly, brushing her hair back behind her ear, "I used to see some terrible things at the DA's office so trust me when I say that I've had plenty of bad dreams myself. So you should never worry that I'll think that you're silly for being frightened of the scary stuff in your head because I have a lot of scary stuff in my head too. And I know how real things can seem sometimes. So even after this is over and you're back in your own apartment, if you have a bad dream you can still call me and I'll sit up with you and we can talk until you feel better," he gave her a soft smile, "okay?"

If only she knew some of the things that he'd seen just in his first six months at the DA's Office; babies beaten by their mothers, hookers battered by their pimps, wives used as regular punching bags by their 'loving spouses.' And then he'd graduated to class A felonies . . . rapes and homicides.

There were just too many horrors, that was why he'd left that job. The same names would come up time and again, and it never seemed like he was making a real difference. Everything was pled down, nobody ever received a punishment commiserate with their crime and he'd started getting the desire to mete out more than just paper justice. He wanted to start catching the bad guys himself, and not just getting dirty looks from the cops when they found out that the best sentence he'd been able to get to avenge the brain damaged five year old was her father getting three years in county.

He'd considered joining the police force but he'd known that wouldn't have been good enough for his father. And really . . . with all due respect to the local officers who he knew busted their asses . . . he did have a degree from Harvard. And it would have been kind of a waste not to do anything with that but use it as a dust collector on the wall.

The Bureau had been ideal for him though. It allowed him to use his education, but still fulfill that desire to start kicking ass in a less metaphorical way.

Emily's eyes started to tear up as she looked down at him.

"Okay," she whispered back with a watery smile.

As first real boyfriends went she'd definitely hit the jackpot here. And when he reached up to wipe the moisture from the corner of her eye she began to realize just how attached she was becoming to him.

So much so that when he tugged her down into his arms, she suddenly flashed on his plans to join hostage rescue. And that's when she felt a little stab of fear that something could happen and she'd lose him before they even had a chance to try and make this work.

That fear tried to take root but then she reminded herself that she'd known from the first day that she met him just how dangerous his job was. After all he was there to protect her from a death threat! And that hadn't stopped her from developing her initial little crush.

Though admittedly that little crush was now starting to develop into much more.

Realizing then that she was already in way over her head with him, Emily pushed away her worries for now, instead just focusing in on the feeling of him holding her in his arms as his fingers stroking through her hair.

She wasn't going to ruin the moment by worrying about things that hadn't happened yet. When this was all over and they got home and started doing this dating thing for real . . . or at least like normal people dated without getting paranoid and afraid when they stepped out the front door . . . maybe they could talk about her concerns then.

Okay . . . feeling herself start to relax even more, Emily snuggled in closer, releasing her grasp on his t-shirt as she slid her arm over to wrap around his torso . . . she was going to put all of these worries . . . real, dream state and future career plans included . . . out of her head for now.

For right now all she needed to focus on was the fact that Aaron was here, Aaron's gun was here and Aaron and his gun would keep them both safe.

And that . . . she closed her eyes . . . was a good note to leave it on for tonight.

Feeling the tension leave Emily's body, Aaron sighed as he tugged her in a little closer. And then he felt her small hand move across his stomach and he kissed her temple again.

This was something that he hadn't done with Haley in forever . . . just been happy to cuddle up in the dark. Though he hated that Emily was being haunted by these images, he couldn't deny that having her with him this way was showing him another glimpse at a possible future with her.

And simply having that glimpse was enough to make him happy in a way that he hadn't been with Haley in months.

That made him a little sad that a relationship that had once meant so much to him had petered into nothing. But . . . he shook his head slightly . . . there was nothing to be done about that now. And then he reminded himself that if things hadn't fallen apart with Haley, then he wouldn't be in the position he was now with Emily in his arms.

And he absolutely no regrets about that turn of events, so perhaps he needed to let the other stuff go. What was was, and what is is, and he just needed to stay in the present.

As the minutes ticked passed, and he felt Emily's breaths begin to even out, her earlier words started to run through his mind.

A straight razor . . . his jaw suddenly clenched as a few images flashed in his brain . . . that wasn't the way he'd pictured it.

In his dreams it was a box cutter.

Not that he was planning on ever sharing his nightmares with her, but still, having another scenario to run through his mind wasn't something he really needed. This was only the third solo assignment he'd had at the Bureau, and with each new charge he always felt that responsibility weighing on him. But Emily was the first one that had resulted in these visceral night terrors.

They'd started on his third day with her, and that was about the point where he'd started to see that his attachment was becoming more than simply professional.

It had been a downward slide from there.

Though ordinarily he'd worry that his personal feelings were clouding their interactions, he knew that in this instance what he had said to her tonight was the absolute truth.

As long as he was with her then she was completely safe, everything was fine.

Nobody could hurt her.

Though none of those things were in doubt, as he lay there . . . now with Emily's version of the nightmare running a live video stream in his brain . . . Aaron knew that he wasn't getting back to sleep anytime soon.

His eyes shifted down to the sleeping girl next to him, and then to the alarm clock just to her other side.

The bright red numbers told him it was 4:36 a.m.

Okay . . . he listened to the silence around him . . . if sleeping was out, what was he going to do for the next two hours?

He most definitely did not want to get up. For one thing, he had a beautiful girl wrapped around his side. But for another thing, the beautiful girl in question was wrapped around his side because she had a bad dream.

And there's nothing to say that she couldn't have another.

If that happened he just didn't want her to wake up alone again. So as he lay there with Emily sleeping soundly in his arms and these nasty images in his head, Aaron tried to think of something to clear his mind.

Their date!

The idea popped into his head and he nodded to himself . . . yes, that was perfect. Something nice and pleasant . . . and most importantly, Emily focused . . . to look forward to.

Let's see . . . he started making plans . . . they had covered culinary preferences in their lengthy 'getting to know you' discussion before they went to bed, so he at least knew what she liked and didn't like for cuisine. Now the question was, for the first big _'official we can now see each other like regular people'_ date . . . should he make dinner or take her out?

'_Take her out.'_

The little voice in the back of his brain seemed pretty confident. And as Aaron thought about it, he again nodded to himself . . . yeah, that probably would be best. This security situation had made her a virtual prisoner, she wasn't even living in her own home . . . neither of them were . . . so he should definitely celebrate the end of her confinement (and his) by actually taking her OUT of the house.

There would be time for romantic dinners at home later.

Besides, it probably would be best to save at home romantic dinners until the physical elements of their relationship had crossed over the next boundary. Though he was perfectly fine taking cold showers until she was ready to move to another step, if he didn't put himself into complicated situations . . . complicated situations defined here as constantly being alone together in one of their apartments with candles and soft music . . . then he'd probably have less cold showers to take.

Yeah . . . he huffed . . . that sounded like some stellar logic to him.

So, focusing in again on the first big night, maybe for the date he'd take her to a nice restaurant and then The National Gallery. She had said that was one of her favorite places to go so she'd definitely enjoy that for their first official outing.

And then the next time . . . without a doubt there would be many more next times . . . they could go to the movies. And then later there were always art museums, the Botanical Gardens or the Smithsonian exhibits.

Perhaps . . . his lip quirked up slightly before he yawned . . . they could even go to the zoo.

Emily liked the lions.

That was something that he had learned tonight. Actually all of those places he'd learned tonight were places that she liked to go. And those were all activities that would help them to have more time to get to know each other. The bonus of course was keeping him from getting blue balls in the process.

And that . . . Aaron's eyes started to fall shut . . . was definitely a major plus.

_

* * *

A/N 2: Short note because I have to go to bed because I am relocating my entire life in the morning. So yes, in the effort to explore different reasons for their decisions in the universe, I see Aaron being less 'enchanted' with the grislier aspects of his work at the DA's office. That this version of him with the dad and brother who are both 'big damn hero' soldiers, that he'd be more taken with the physical elements of his job where he could just black and white catch the bad guys. That perhaps canon Hotch also was driven to the FBI because of what he saw as a prosecutor, but he was more taken by the "why" and this version of him doesn't so much care why as he just wants to lock them up. And I don't think I will send this version of him to the BAU, I like the idea of them making different choices and perhaps being able to live happier because of it. _

_Writing this more innocent Emily is fun. It wasn't until I was about to have her climb into bed with him when I stopped in my head and pictured being her and like 'whoa, this a new thing,' and realized that she would pause for a second, and then Emily being Emily would start to have a panic attack about something else. But again, that seems logical as well. Girl climbs into your bed in the middle of the night, most guys are going to think they're getting lucky. Thank God Aaron's a gentleman! :)_

_I think have a big week/weekend so not sure when I'll be back again. Hopefully you were happy to see the return of the Gingerbread world, I think I'll be able to get the last chapter up around the first of the month. _


	10. Back To The Beginning

**Author's Note:** Another shocker, it's Gingerbread! Some of you might have thought given my apparent abandoning of this tale that I had actually concluded it. No. I just didn't couldn't get the ending down on the page the way I had it in my head. And trust me, I tried. But now, we got it. And I don't want to ruin anything coming so I'll just say, more at the end.

Assuming you go back and read the story again to refresh your memory, please note this one picks up first thing the next morning.

* * *

**TV Prompt Set #19**

Show: Little House On the Prairie

Title Challenge: The High Cost of Being Right

**

* * *

Back To The Beginning**

Aaron leaned down to pick up Emily's box of videotapes. Then he turned, tipping his head back to call up the staircase.

"Emily! I'm running out to the car. Do you have anything else to go?"

Though he was pretty sure that they were about ninety-five percent packed, ninety-five percent was not done. And all Aaron wanted was to be done.

They'd woken up a little over an hour ago to discover that the humidity . . . which they'd had a wonderful respite from the last twenty-four hours . . . had rolled in again overnight. There was no air conditioning in the cabin . . . Aaron's nose wrinkled as a trickle of sweat ran down his temple . . . and for security reasons they obviously couldn't leave the windows open to get a breeze.

Not that there was any breeze to get today anyway.

The air outside was stagnant, and as the sun climbed in the sky it was beating down on the front of the house. Bottom line, it was barely nine am and his shirt was already sticking to him like he'd jumped in the lake.

That did not bode well for the rest of the morning here.

"Um," Emily stood staring at the pictures in the hallway as she called back softly to Aaron, "yeah, I just need to get the blankets and pillows off the bed." Her eyes started to water as she reached out to touch the photo of her parents sitting down by the lake.

The color was fading.

"Five minutes and I'll be ready to go."

It was best that Aaron was hurrying them out the door because of the heat. Because anymore time here to dwell on her past and she was just going to start crying again anyway.

She'd rather just go.

Hearing the tears in Emily's voice, Aaron bit his lip as his eyes dropped to the floor . . . she was so sad today, and he just didn't know what to do. It had started the moment he'd woken up to find her crying on his shoulder. As he'd rolled over and wrapped her up in his arms, at first he couldn't quite figure out what it was that had so altered her mood from the night before. She'd been so happy.

And then she wasn't.

And of course she wouldn't tell him why that was. She'd just gotten embarrassed as she wiped her face. Then when he'd kissed her temple and asked again why she was crying, she'd shaken her head and murmured that it didn't matter.

That was when her voice had cracked.

She'd immediately pulled away from him and run out of the bedroom. The bathroom door had slammed shut a second later. He'd started after her but when he got to the hallway that's when he again saw the pictures lining the walls, and he realized that he already knew what was wrong.

They were going home.

It had been over a year since Emily's last visit to the cabin with her family. And it seemed with her grandparents' deteriorating health, and the progression of her parents' careers, the odds were not kind to the whole Prentiss family getting back together up here again. Their last visit as a family probably had been their last visit.

This cabin, which had meant so much to Emily for so many years, was now becoming part of her past.

And though he was worried about her, Aaron was trying not to prolong the process of saying goodbye. So instead of asking again if she was all right, he cleared his throat.

"After I drop this box in the trunk I'm going to shut off the water. Then I'll come help you with the last load, all right?"

At first there was no response back to his question. But then he heard the subdued "okay," come floating down from the second story and he sighed.

Poor Emily.

And as he stepped into the hall Aaron suddenly flashed on her red rimmed eyes as she stared at the fireplace that morning. Again he wished that he could think of something to say or do to help her process all of these emotions.

But there was nothing really.

After all . . . he stepped out onto the porch, pulling the door tightly shut behind him . . . he was just someone new. Yes, he was someone that cared about her . . . but he wasn't her family. And whatever their relationship was now, or whatever it could possibly become in the future, his presence wasn't going to fix the other things that were broken.

It was her life.

So . . . he stepped off the bottom step . . . he'd just have to try and let her process this situation in her own way. And if she wanted to talk later when they got home, then . . . he leaned down slightly to place the box into the open trunk . . . he would listen. And if she wanted to cry, then he would hold her. And then tomorrow . . . Aaron straightened as his gaze drifted up to the bay windows on the second floor . . . they would start again.

But for now, as he slammed the trunk shut and wiped his forearm across his sweaty brow, he knew that he just needed to get them packed and out of there. Though he was trying to give Emily a little space to say her goodbyes to this place, he still didn't want to linger.

It wouldn't be healthy to stay out here in this weather.

No . . . Aaron rolled his neck as he started crossing the front yard . . . the hope was to be back in the world of air conditioning and takeout well before either of them dropped from heat exhaustion. And in order to attain that wonderful goal of air conditioning and takeout . . . aka civilization . . . he was now off to complete the last major task on his to do list that morning . . . turning off the water to the house.

It was a little bit of a trek.

Though they had been out to barbecue the night before, that was a different part of the yard . . . the nice part. It was the side that followed the path that led down to the lake. There was a brick fire pit, a retractable awning for shade, and some teak benches that were all weather built ins.

Spending time out there last night . . . really late afternoon, he would never have Emily out after dark . . . he'd shaken his head as he'd wondered yet again why it was that Emily's parents didn't make more of an effort to get away if they had that to get away to. Then he figured he was never going get to know either of them well enough to ask that question, so he probably should just let it go.

Essentially though, that was why he hadn't actually had reason to get around to the water pump since they'd arrived two days earlier. Because of course the house was enormous and as such, the property surrounding it was as well. So when Aaron turned the corner into the far side yard the first thing he noticed was what a mess it was.

More so than when he'd first seen it.

As it wasn't the section of property that was used for socializing . . . nor could it be seen from the front of the house . . . it was somewhat neglected. The lawn was more weeds than grass, and the ground was more rocks than dirt. On its best day it wasn't going to win any landscaping awards, but after all the rains Friday night it had basically become a swamp land. His nose wrinkled . . . it even had that smell. And the mud still remained in patches of dark and light depending on how much sunlight had beaten down on that part of the yard. Fortunately most of the excess water had evaporated so he wasn't getting his sneakers too wet as he slogged along best he could while sticking to the drier patches of ground.

In fact . . .

Aaron's last thought vanished as something suddenly caught his eye. He stopped dead in his tracks.

A footprint.

Or more specifically . . . his heart started to race . . . footprints. They were dried into the mud and . . . his eyes shot across the lawn . . . leading up to the side of the house.

Shit. Shit! SHIT!

Adrenaline now pouring through his veins, Aaron yanked out his Sig as he spun around, trying to see everywhere at once. And what he saw did absolutely nothing for his level of anxiety.

The footprints stopped in front of the kitchen window.

Somebody had been watching them.

It didn't matter that the footprints were mostly hardened, what mattered was that their perimeter had been breached and he hadn't known about it. They needed to leave NOW!

Just as Aaron was about to bolt back to the house and drag Emily to the car he spotted something moving in the greenery just beyond the tree line.

And then the movement stopped.

Now operating purely on instinct, Aaron stared intently, trying to see between the leaves. When he squinted he got a glimpse of what appeared to be the color yellow . . . probably a shirt . . . and then for a split second he dropped his eyes to the ground to see the pattern of the footprints again.

As he feared they led directly back to the part of the trees that had just caught his attention.

His gaze snapped back up.

Even though it was broad daylight and he was in the midst of a sweltering heat, a chill went down his spine. If some of these footprints were already dry, that meant that their stalker . . . who was living in full Technicolor a mere twenty-five yards away . . . had been coming and going for at least twenty-four hours.

Aaron seriously wanted to throw up. How had he let his happen? This person could be the author of Emily's letter.

This could be the person with the box cutter.

Feeling another wave of abject panic rising up, Aaron started to take a half a step backwards . . . he needed to get to Emily . . . but just then he saw the trees move again slightly. And then a glint of sunlight bounced off something right where he'd seen the yellow shirt seconds before.

Okay . . . Aaron's teeth started to grind as he slid his thumb over his safety . . . there was a remote possibility that sunbeam had bounced off of somebody's watch. But given the lead weight in his stomach, he was leaning more towards the idea that sunbeam had bounced off of somebody's rifle scope.

Great.

So now it didn't matter that Emily was at least locked up safe and sound inside the house. Because this guy had a rifle. And once he took Aaron's_ head_ off, he was going to be free to come over and pluck the frigging house key right out of his pocket!

Really . . . Aaron thought bitterly . . . once he was a decapitated CORPSE_,_ then Emily was going to be completely SCREWED! And for a moment he was torn about what to do next. His head . . . pride . . . was telling him to try to regain control of the situation. That until he had proof that the glint was a rifle, he should attempt to assert his authority. He should call out and demand that whoever was down there drop whatever he was holding and show himself.

But Aaron knew that was a fool's move.

His gut wasn't wrong. Any stalker who shows up with a rifle isn't looking to have a conversation. That person has already decided how this day is going to go. And with a clear line of sight from this side of the house to the woods, Aaron was completely exposed.

Even an amateur could take a clean shot.

Yeah . . . his fingers tapped on the side of his revolver . . . whoever that was down there . . . no matter what his intentions . . . he had the complete upper hand.

And he wasn't about to give it up just because some jackass flashed his badge.

That's when Aaron's racing heart reminded him yet again that Emily was his primary responsibility here. Keeping her safe . . . his stomach started to churn as he flashed on box cutters and straight razors . . . keeping her alive. That was all that mattered.

And the only way for her to stay alive was for him to get her the _hell_ out of there!

But of course . . . the little voice in his head piped up . . . if there was somebody with a gun hiding in the woods on one side of the house . . . his gaze shifted slightly . . . then there could be somebody hiding elsewhere too.

_God he would fucking KILL for some backup right now!_

Okay . . . he took a shallow breath as he saw another glint come from the trees . . . keep it together Aaron. No time to be pissed off, no time to be wishing for things you don't have. There are things to do. And the first thing to do . . . he started to back up slowly . . . was get to Emily.

If he could just get back around to the corner of the house, then he'd make a run for it. Right now his hope was that this stalker/sniper liked to play cat and mouse. After all, at least thirty seconds had passed since Aaron had locked eyes on that corner of the woods. It had to be clear to the person holding the giant magnifying glass that he knew _something_ was wrong!

And the guy still hadn't taken the shot yet.

Granted . . . Aaron risked a quick glance over his right shoulder . . . there was still a slim chance that it was just some perv out there with a telescope trying to catch a glimpse of Emily in her bikini. That would be nice. That would be great.

Yeah . . . he took another shall breath . . . that would be bullshit.

Some Peeping Tom would have taken off into the trees as soon as he knew that he was spotted. With the distance to the end of the yard, Aaron had no chance of catching him, let alone even getting close enough to see his face. He could have disappeared into the forest as a mystery man.

And Aaron would have let him go.

He would have raced back to the house, thrown Emily over his shoulder and peeled out like the hounds of hell were chasing them. And that might have been a complete overreaction.

But he would have been okay with that.

Now though, as he worked his way back the last few paces to the edge of the house, he began to dread having to turn the corner. Not only was he going to lose whatever small advantage he had at the moment . . . actually being able to see what he now knew for sure was right in front of him . . . but it was also a blind corner behind him. And though he'd shot a couple of quick looks over his shoulder, he had no way of knowing if there was anybody else besides this disturbingly . . . alarmingly . . . patient man in the woods.

Was there now another disturbingly patient assassin now sitting on the hood of his car?

Aaron got to the turn in the yard, pausing for just a millisecond to listen, trying to hear if there was anyone out front.

Nothing but the cicadas buzzing . . . and of course the blood pounding in his ears. Okay . . . he took a deep breath to prepare himself . . . so as soon as he was clear around the corner he was hauling ass to the front door.

Just as he moved his left foot, Aaron caught sight of another flash of light from the woods. This one was much brighter than the last.

GUNSHOT!

Though his brain was able to process the word . . . his body didn't have time to react. Before he could dive out of the way, Aaron felt a blinding white pain that threw him back and to the muddy ground beneath him.

Then he blacked out.

* * *

_A/N 2: Man, I'm just shooting team members left and right this week! Okay, so the plan from the beginning was to wrap up the "action/adventure" portion of their day in one chapter. But you know, believe it or not, I can get a bit wordy in the writing. I know, shocking. So the adventury portion was just getting longer and longer and things get too long and they start to feel a bit unwieldy. And I was at like 14k words without even reaching the polish stage so I was having a slight anxiety attack about ever getting this damn thing pulled together. So to save my sanity and finally reward all you nice folks with an update, against my initial better judgment, I sliced up the last day. We now have this first "beginning of the end" chapter and then definitely one, possibly two more. It depends on whether I tack my epilogue on the end of the next one or give it it's own posting. Again though, I have this all written to the end, it's just getting cleaned up now. So I'd LOVE to finish putting up the last bit this month. That's why I was so resistant to chopping it, it felt like a step back because it wasn't what I wanted to do. I wanted to put up just one tight chapter addressing all of the drama on Sunday. But sometimes you have to be a grownup and realize that what you want to do, and what you need to do, are not the same thing. And here we are._

_So yeah, to the chapter! This was the plan all along. Aaron would discover the footprints in the mud when he went to turn off the water. I saw them in my head as soon as Emily woke up the first night with the rain pounding on her window. And now you can see, all the foreshadowing was not for naught :) I did have a plan. It was just arriving by tortoise. _

_Also, as it relates to the title of the chapter, 'back to the beginning' not only is that now refocusing on the whole reason these two people have intersected, Emily's life was threatened, but also the reason they connected beyond the intersection was because of Emily's disconnect from the rest of her family. Initially I had some difficulty picking a tone for Emily on this day because they were happy the night before. But then I reread the story and realized that she was going to be sad again in the morning. All of her memories of that place are just memories now. Whatever happens in the future, it's going to be a different stage of her life. Clearly Emily will play larger than a bit player role in the next chapter._

_So hope you're all happy here that we're back. And I truly am hoping against hope that in the very short term my brain can stick with the cleanup of the last part. _


	11. Known & Unknown

**Author's Note**: Thanks so much everybody for the feedback on the last chapter. I haven't had a chance to respond to everybody yet, but again thank you!

This is picking up with Emily a few minutes after Hotch left her upstairs.

* * *

**TV Bonus Challenge #22**

Show: One Tree Hill

Title Challenge: I Can't See You, But I Know You're There

* * *

**Known & Unknown**

Emily's nose wrinkled in disgust as she stood in front of the bathroom mirror.

She looked terrible.

But of course that was to be expected after her morning long on again off crying. Her face was sticky, her eyes were puffy and there were ruddy splotches on her cheeks. And then of course there was her hair . . . she tipped her head slightly to the side . . . with all of the cleaning and the packing and the moving about, half of the bun she'd put up after her shower had fallen out. So now the lose strands were sticking to her skin as they hung down in sweaty strings.

Really . . . with a sigh she turned on the cold water before picking up the bar of Dove . . . not only did she look bad, she felt pretty gross too. Aaron was right . . . she started washing her face and neck . . . they'd stayed long enough.

It was definitely time to go home.

Not that they hadn't had a good weekend . . . her eyes crinkled slightly as thought back to the developments in her relationship with Aaron . . . okay, this was better than just a good weekend.

It was a _great_ weekend.

And regardless of how things might eventually go with Aaron, she knew that this was a weekend that she would always remember as a positive turning point in her life. Though they were still very early days, she knew for a fact that this was going to be her first real relationship. Aaron Hotchner would be her first real love affair . . . a soft smile touched her lips as she remembered the touch of his fingers on her skin . . . he was going to be her first everything. And she knew it would be better to focus in on all of those good things that were coming than to think about the sadness clinging to her past.

'_And your present,' _a little voice reminded her.

Right . . . she felt a pang in her chest . . . her present. Even though these new developments with Aaron made her very happy . . . it was happiness in a bubble. That's why she'd been crying all morning. Saying goodbye to this place had reminded her once more how much she missed her parents and how much she wanted things back again to the way they were before.

Back when the three of them were a real family and not just a list of names on a birth certificate.

Okay . . . she felt a guilty dig . . . perhaps that was unkind, but still, that's how she felt so often these days. That they'd become a family in name only. So clearly her issues with her parents . . . their absence from her life . . . that was something ongoing. Ongoing with no end in sight. And part of her so badly wanted to talk to them about it, to tell them how much their distance affected her.

How much it hurt her.

But she also knew that her discontent was childish. Her parents were very busy, very important people, doing very important things. And it was wrong of her to even consider making them feel guilty simply for being who they were. They had raised her well and clearly they felt that now she was old enough to make her own way in the world. So she just needed to suck it up . . . she felt a wave of self loathing . . . she was being weak.

And Prentiss' were strong.

Really . . . she asked herself scornfully . . . did her mother get to be a United States Ambassador or the first female Secretary of State by sitting around and whining about her problems? No. She went out and made something of herself. Something wonderful. Amazing.

She was a role model for women around the globe.

And now . . . Emily took a breath as she began fixing her hair . . . it was time for her daughter to try to make something of herself as well. This was her last year at Georgetown and then she'd have to decide about a Master's program and a career and really . . . a life. That's definitely what she needed to build this year . . . a life of her own.

Of course that's what her parents assumed she already had.

And of course they couldn't have been more wrong.

But with her blossoming relationship with Aaron, and the busy year ahead of her in school, she was sure that she was on the right path for that now. And then hopefully having a real social life and a real career path would help her make peace with her family issues. She bit her lip.

Hopefully.

Regardless though . . . she shook her head slightly to clear away the creeping melancholy . . . she knew that it would probably be best if she stopped coming to the cabin. Not forever, just . . . for awhile. This place . . . the pictures, the décor, everything about it . . . it was a time capsule.

A monument to the past.

And the past wasn't a healthy place for anyone to live. It was time to look to the future . . . Emily took a breath as she stared at her now more attractive reflection in the mirror . . . so she would wait until she'd come to some reconciliation with these changes in her family life . . . and then she'd try to come here again.

For now though . . . she felt a little surge of confidence as turned to step out of the bathroom . . . it was time to put this place in her rearview mirror.

It was time to move on.

And as she stepped back into the upstairs hallway she resolved to put on a happy face for the rest of the day. Not only did she owe it to herself to not leave with bitterness, but she also owed it to Aaron too. It wasn't right to drag him down.

Speaking of Aaron . . . Emily's brow wrinkled as she noticed the time on the grandfather clock in the hall . . . where was he? Though she hadn't taken specific note of the time when he went outside, it was now almost nine thirty and she was pretty sure that it was just after nine when he said he was going to the car. She'd been fairly lost her in her own thoughts there for awhile so she hadn't really noticed the time passing, but now that she had . . . it seemed like too much time had passed.

And as she thought back on the only two tasks he said he was going to perform . . . putting a box in the car and walking around back to the turn off the water . . . she started to feel slightly uneasy. Because those two things together should have taken like, six, seven minutes tops. And she was quite sure that they were now closing in on at least fifteen minutes. So again . . . she walked over to the landing . . . where was he?

"Aaron!" she called out loudly, "are you downstairs?"

Then she listened for a moment . . . nothing. And the cabin was good size but it wasn't that big. If he was down there he definitely would have heard her.

Emily stepped over to the upstairs bay window to look out to the front yard.

Maybe he was putting air in the tires or something.

And . . . she began nervously chewing on her lower lip as she stared down at the car . . . no. Definitely not putting air in the tires.

In fact, she thought while pushing the curtain all the way back, there was no sign of him anywhere. And this window was so large that it looked over all of the front yard, and most of the side yard as well.

She swallowed as the curtain fell back.

_Okay Aaron, then where did you go?_

Now feeling her unease escalating to genuine fear, Emily still tried not to let her imagination run away with her. There had to be a logical reason for his delay. So as she stared out at the sun beating down on the front yard, she tried desperately to think of one good . . . plausible . . . reason for him not having come back to the house yet.

There wasn't one.

Because in her bones she just knew . . . he wouldn't have left her this long. She'd told him that she'd be ready in five minutes well over ten minutes ago, so he knew that she'd be waiting for him, and then worrying when he didn't return. Beyond that though, he was so hyper vigilant about her safety that she just couldn't envision any scenario where he would have purposely left her alone for more than five minutes.

Not if everything was okay.

Not if he was okay.

Feeling the first tendrils of genuine panic begin to float up, Emily took a breath to try to steady her nerves. Panic was not her friend. Panic was not going to help her find out what had happened to Aaron.

For that she needed to stay calm and focused.

But of course as possible delay scenarios began to run through her mind, calm and focused was the last thing that she felt. Even though the two of them had made a very personal connection, there was still a professional reason that her life had intersected with Aaron's.

A very _bad_, professional reason.

And they were out in the middle of nowhere so if that very bad professional reason had suddenly turned up when Aaron was out there all alone, then . . .

Emily's eyes slammed shut.

No, no, no! None of that. That was panic now working with blind speculation. She needed real information.

Facts, not conjecture.

Okay . . . her eyes popped open as she rubbed her hands nervously up and down her arms . . . facts. So what did she know? He'd been gone far too long. Also, she knew for sure that he'd locked her in the house when he left . . . that was a given . . . so she was safe.

For now anyway.

But she tried to push that thought aside . . . that was speculation . . . as she again focused on what she knew for sure. Well, as much as it sucked, she knew that she couldn't go out and look for him. She wasn't allowed to go anywhere . . . even so far as the front porch . . . without her bodyguard at her side. That was a hard rule from her childhood. And definitely not one that she was about to break right now. Not only would Aaron be absolutely furious with her, but also . . . she wasn't an idiot.

Her eyes began to sting.

If something had happened to him . . . a big, strong, _armed_ federal agent . . . then she wouldn't have a chance by herself.

Feeling the tears start to well up as she suddenly pictured Aaron hurt . . . or worse, Emily had to stop for a moment to regain her composure. But then she angrily wiped her eyes as she reminded herself that she had no time for this now. If he was hurt . . . and she was now stopping her imagination from going further than that . . . then it was up to her to get them help.

And she needed to do that now . . . she started running towards the stairs . . . while she _was_ still safe in the house. Because if somebody had hurt Aaron . . . she galloped down the steps . . . then that somebody was going to be working on a way to get inside.

Working on a way to get to her.

Feeling her stomach flip as her straight razor dream flashed through her mind again, Emily shoved that thought aside as she bounded in the living room. And she was about to keep going out to the front hall . . . out to the panic button on the alarm system . . . when suddenly she froze.

It wouldn't do to go running blindly around corners.

Yes, she was sure the house was locked, and yes, the alarm would have started screaming if anyone but Aaron came in the front door, but still . . . you never know.

And she wasn't going to die like some stupid girl in a horror movie.

So she stopped for moment, simultaneously catching her heaving breath as her eyes darted around the room looking for something she could use as a weapon.

FIREPLACE!

She hurried over and grabbed the poker from the stand . . . perfect . . . then she spun around, taking another breath as she did.

Okay . . . she pushed off her sneakers so she wouldn't squeak on the hardwood floors . . . now she just had to go out into the hallway and push the button. And then . . . she started moving her bare feet slowly across the living room . . . that would trigger a little red light and big loud noise back on a board back in Washington. Of course help from Washington was hours away, but at least they'd know something was wrong here. And then they'd call the sheriff to send a car to the cabin.

And that's what she needed right now . . . people with badges and guns. Her eyes started to sting again as she got to the doorway.

And as soon as they got here then she was throwing the house rule out the window.

She was going out to look for Aaron.

Quickly blinking the tears away again, she stopped for a second trying to remember how she'd seen her handlers go around corners.

Low.

If they weren't sure what was on the other side, then they always ducked down. And knowing that they ducked to prevent anyone from getting a good surprise head shot, she decided that moving all the way to the floor would be her best bet. After all she was the girl that had her face slashed to ribbons in the picture.

It would be really nice if that didn't happen in real life.

So she moved to a squatting position, pressing herself back tightly against the wall by the bookcase. Then she poked her head slightly around the corner, just enough so that she could see to the end of the hall.

And thank God . . . she slowly exhaled . . . nothing to see.

Or at least . . . her eyes snapped in the opposite direction . . . no_body_ to see. And that was good . . . she pushed herself up . . . that was great. And now there were only twelve paces to go.

Now feeling more emboldened, she decided it was time to move faster . . . even a relay to a sheriff's car was probably going to take another ten minutes . . . so she stepped into the hall and started to run. She hadn't taken more than five steps when she heard a noise and froze again.

Her eyes popped . . . the lock was turning.

her heart started galloping.

Shit! Shit! SHIT!

Was that Aaron! Or was it somebody else?! Should she stay or hide?!

MAKE A DECISION!

The scream in her head forced her feet moving again, the living room was too far back to hide, so she sprinted to her father's den.

Emily had just leapt out of the hall when she heard the door bump against the wall. And then she waited to hear the little beep, beep, beep, of the alarm code being punched into the system.

But it didn't come.

And her eyes started to water as she instead heard footsteps begin moving away from the door.

"Emily . . . where are you?"

Her eyes widened in shock and horror . . . she knew that voice. A tear ran down her cheek . . . she knew it well.

But it wasn't Aaron's.

* * *

_A/N 2: Yes, I know, many a pointy object is being hurled at my head. But I've said it before, if you must throw something pointy, stick with the bananas, anything else I'll end up with a corneal scratch. All I can promise you is that there really truly is just ONE more chapter left so this would be the end of the cliffies. I really had planned initially to wrap to a certain point here and then do a straight epilogue to catch up later, but when I was cleaning it up Emily was moving really slowly to the front door and pretty soon I had like eight pages on her alone so I decided to cut it where we are. _

_Though Emily's had no actual law enforcement training in this world, she's clearly quite sharp. And if she's spent her entire life to that point surrounded by armed body guards, I feel like she would have at least picked up a couple basics on the smartest way to move around in an unknown situation. _

_Okay, I'll try to get the end up next weekend. I have like three things sooooo close to done it's killing me. So there should be a couple other things up this week. Maybe one more tonight, depends on when I go to bed :)_


End file.
